Darkness Arises
by Metal Harbinger
Summary: Career criminal Jake Cavanaugh is sent to Raccoon City on an assassination mission, but he will soon find himself in over his head.
1. Prologue: The Assignment

Darkness Arises by E-Z B  
  
Prologue: The Assignment  
  
September 20, 1998  
  
RIIIIIIINNNNGGG!!! RIIIIIINNGG!!!  
  
The sound of the ringing phone permeated the silent atmosphere of the small apartment, followed by the groans of its lone occupant.  
  
A loud grunt emanated from the large bed and a massive figure tossed and turned several times to stir himself awake before he finally reached over and grabbed the cordless phone on his nearby nightstand and nearly knocked it to the carpeted floor below. Switching the phone on, the man let out a long, tortured sigh before he spoke.  
  
"Hello..."  
  
"Hello Mr. Cavanaugh, it is a pleasure to finally meet you." an icy voice boomed from the other end.  
  
"What?!?" the man sat up in shock. He was now wide awake.  
  
"Who are you and how the hell did you get this number?" Jake Cavanaugh growled as he swung his long legs over and placed his feet on the smooth carpet beneath him. "More importantly, how the hell did you know my name?" he added clenching the phone tighter and wanting to strangle the mysterious individual on the other line.  
  
"I know much about you Mr. Jacob Cavanaugh, or should I call you "The Red Dragon" as your previous associates have referred to you as." the man chuckled arrogantly.  
  
Jake seethed in anger. Being woken up by a mysterious individual who seemingly knew him from out of nowhere was not the ideal way to start a day for him.  
  
"All right who the hell is this? Are you a pig? If you are, I will track you down and then I will rip your head off and shit down your fucking neck!" he snarled raising his voice. If this phone line was tapped and the police were nearby waiting to ambush him, he would be prepared and be ready to deal with them one by one.  
  
"My my Mr. Cavanaugh, I knew you had quite the temper, but seriously, is this any way to greet a man who might be able to make you an offer you can't refuse?" the man chimed, obviously not intimidated by Jake's rage.  
  
"What offer? For all I care you're probably some nameless shmuck with a death wish who will try to lead me along like some mindless sheep only to try jacking me in the back like my old partner did!" Jake spat, making reference to his traitorous former best friend and partner in crime, Tyler "the Viper" Denton.  
  
"Calm down my friend, I am not here to harm you in any way. Like I just said, I am here to make you an offer that could make you a very wealthy man." the man continued.  
  
Jake had heard that line a million times before, both on Mafia movies and in person where the powerful Mafia don would try to make some nobody underling an offer he supposedly could not refuse and then leave him lying in a pool of his own blood afterwards. For now he would play dumb and listen to what this mysterious individual had to say.  
  
"Go on!" he ordered lowering his head. Whatever this man had planned he was too smart to fall for it.  
  
"Thank you. Now as I have just stated, I am prepared to make you an offer that could make you a very wealthy individual. I'm sure that you have heard all about a certain incident that took place in the Arklay Mountains back in late July involving an explosion at the Spencer Estate, am I correct?"  
  
Jake knew right away what the man was talking about.  
  
Throughout the summer the small midwestern metropolis of Raccoon City had made national headlines after a series of brutal and bizarre cannibal murders had been reported throughout the Arklay Mountain area. At first, the murders had been attributed to random wild animal attacks, but soon would be proven to be the work of cannibals, prompting the Raccoon City Police Department to mobilize its elite Special Tactics And Rescue Squad, or S.T.A.R.S. for short.  
  
Little is known of what actually happened on the night of July 28, 1998, but when the night had ended the Spencer Estate had been decimated and only five of the original thirteen S.T.A.R.S. members came out alive. They reported having encountered zombies, green reptilian creatures, large spiders, and other monstrosities and that some corrupt corporation was behind everything. All that was known afterwards was that the S.T.A.R.S. unit had been suspended indefinitely and that the R.P.D. would handle the rest of the investigation itself. The exact fate of the S.T.A.R.S. members themselves was unknown.  
  
"Yeah, I know what you're talking about..." Jake replied, "...So what does this have to do with me?"  
  
"I'm glad you asked Mr. Cavanaugh and now we will get down to business. The incident at the mansion was caused by a viral outbreak. One of the main men behind the incident was a top-ranking scientist by the name of William Birkin."  
  
William Birkin. Jake had no clue who that individual was, but he knew right off the bat that this so-called offer he was receiving would revolve around this particular man and he knew that he would have to pay attention to what this mysterious individual had to say about him.  
  
"All right, so where does this William Birkin come into play?" he asked with great interest.  
  
"As I have stated, Dr. Birkin is a top-ranking scientist with an international pharmaceutical conglomerate, known to the world as Umbrella Inc., I'm sure you are familiar with them as well."  
  
Who wasn't familiar with the Umbrella Corporation? The stories of their recent successes in the medical research field had been all over the news. Not only that, but the company also had its hands in a series of other fields as well, such as computer software, robotics, and numerous other ventures that would practically put them in a high position wherever they chose to set up shop.  
  
The man continued with his speech. "As of late, Dr. Birkin has been working on several top secret projects for the Umbrella Corporation, mainly dealing with biological and chemical weapons. From what we know, the man is becoming paranoid. He fears that the corporation is trying to steal his research right from underneath him and they believe that he might go public with his findings, or try to keep it for himself and possibly sell it to the highest bidder. Either way, it would be bad for business and we cannot have that. This is where you will come into play my friend."  
  
"Okay, I'm listening..." he said with interest.  
  
"Mr. Cavanaugh, I want you to eliminate William Birkin." the man said, slightly raising his tone, "You must get rid of that man by any means necessary. He has become too much of a nuisance for our liking and having read up on your track record we know you are the man for the job. I don't care what you have to do, if you have to shoot him, stab him, bludgeon him, run him over, or even poison him, I want him dead. Kill anybody else that gets in your way too, we can't risk having any witnesses."  
  
"So these guys have heard all about my track record too, I'm touched." Jake thought to himself with a great deal of sarcasm. He then spoke aloud again, "All right, how much will I be paid for this job?"  
  
"Ten million dollars." the man replied.  
  
Ten million dollars. That sure was a lot of money, but Jake could not allow himself to become distracted by such a great dollar amount. He had no idea who this man was and he knew that mysterious types like this always had some kind of ulterior motive in mind. If this man had anything else planned, then so help him he had better come prepared because the Red Dragon would personally hunt him down and make him pay for his stupid mistake.  
  
Jake paused before he spoke knowing he had to be careful. "All right...I'll do it..." he spoke, "...But I'm warning you, if you are playing me then so help me God I will track you down and kill you along with this Birkin shithead!" he growled, his voice adopting a gravelly tone as it lowered.  
  
There was a brief pause before the man spoke, almost as if Jake's threats were beginning to sink in. "I'm glad to hear it. I totally understand your concerns Mr. Cavanaugh and I assure you that this is the only job I will ask of you to perform. You will be paid handsomely for this job and then you will be able to move on as if I never even acknowledged your presence. Right now as I speak an envelope is being delivered to your doorstep. It contains information regarding your mission and it will also contain some items you will need in this assignment."  
  
"What? This bastard knows where I live too?" Jake thought to himself as he quickly used his free hand to reach for the Beretta 9mm. he always kept hidden underneath his pillow when he slept. The gun was fully loaded and in good working condition.  
  
"I wish you good luck Mr. Cavanaugh and good hunting!" with those words the line went dead, but Jake didn't have time to respond. The young man made a quick dash for the front door with his gun raised.  
  
Jake quickly hugged the wall to the immediate right of his door and put his ear to the wall listening for movement. He clenched onto his gun for dear life when he heard heavy footsteps pounding the floor outside and lowered into a combat position as they advanced further and further until they were outside his door and the sound of an envelope being dropped reached his ears. Slowly and quietly turning the doorknob he followed up with a powerful kick that sent the door flying open.  
  
"Got you now!" the criminal cried as he leapt into the hall with his gun trained on his so-called "visitor," only to leap back in stunned silence.  
  
"What?" he half-cried standing in the quiet hallway. He peered throughout the damp, dirty hallway searching for any possible intruders only to find a junkie sitting in a corner mumbling incoherently to himself and some heavily tattooed biker with his hands raised above his head and a look of fear etched upon his face as he noticed the young criminal's handgun.  
  
This was all too freakish for Jake to comprehend and right now he wanted to get this assignment done and over with. He looked down in front of his door and found a manila colored envelope that appeared to have no return address and no visible markings of any kind. He quickly scooped up the envelope and stepped back into his apartment locking the door behind him.  
  
"All right I'm going to find out what this shit is all about." Jake said as he walked across his small living room and collapsed onto his couch. He quickly spilled out the contents of the envelope, finding a series of files, letters, memos, maps, and photographs, along with a red and black ID card belonging to Umbrella Inc.  
  
"Obviously in case I have to sneak around one of their facilities." he said to himself as he closely studied a photo of the man who was William Birkin, his target. He would then begin to sift through the rest of the documents sent to him and would spend the next half hour learning more about Umbrella Inc., the Spencer Estate incident, Raccoon City itself, the S.T.A.R.S. team, and William Birkin himself.  
  
"Damn, this whole deal sounds pretty heavy duty. Might not be as much a walk in the park as I thought it would be. With this guy being a top scientist for the Umbrella Corporation I know I'd probably have quite a few people gunning for me if I took a shot at this man out in broad daylight. I'll have to sneak up on this guy somehow and take him out as quietly as I possibly can." Jake said as he sat back in deep thought.  
  
After some brief moments in thought he went about his normal morning routine. He walked over to his small kitchen area and made himself a quick breakfast consisting of a glass of milk and bowl of cereal and then went into his bathroom and took a shower and then shaved and brushed his teeth. He observed himself closely as he did.  
  
Jake Cavanaugh was a fairly nice looking young man for his twenty four years. He stood six feet three inches tall and possessed a muscular build that could easily intimidate many of his lesser enemies and even some of his more powerful foes. His face was fairly chiseled and he had dark blue-gray eyes that often gave off a cold, unforgiving stare. His large black eyebrows were a dominant feature on his forehead that emphasized his cold stares, giving him a hypnotic, almost vampire-like gaze that could bewilder anybody who tried to start trouble with him, especially when he was in a bad mood. On his chin he had a small strip of neatly trimmed back hair that made up his small goatee and his head was covered with short jet black hair he normally wore spiked up that at the moment hung down almost covering his eyes. The features that stood out the most about the man were his tattoos.  
  
On his upper right arm he had a large red dragon surrounded by flames and black lines that symbolized his nickname "The Red Dragon," for he fought with the fierceness and cunning of a dragon. On his upper left arm he had a cracked skull with blood red eyes belching flames that was meant to symbolize a large part of his chosen profession, death. Across his shoulders he had a mysterious tribal symbol with an unknown meaning, only known by the owner himself. On his lower right leg he had a large scorpion tattoo, which served as a tribute to his deceased brother Ryan, a tough gang member whose nickname was "The Scorpion." Finally, on his right forearm he had several different Chinese symbols which when translated read "Hate, Get To Know Me Better," reflecting upon his often dark outlook on life.  
  
In Jake's own mind, he had every right to have a dark outlook on life. He had gone through enough pain and suffering in his short life and had experienced a lot of things during his childhood that no ordinary kid should have to experience.  
  
Young Jacob was born into a seemingly average family in a small, modest middle class town in northern California where his father worked in the local mill and his mother worked as a secretary in a local office building. He had two brothers and three sisters and on the outside they appeared to be the perfect suburban family, however, they were far from perfect.  
  
Jake's father, an ex-Marine, was a heavy drinker who would beat his wife and children frequently with Jake and his older brother Ryan bearing the brunt of it. He recalls that not a single night would go by where his father wouldn't come home from the local bar and immediately seek out a target to unleash his rage upon, or go on a hunt to quench his bloodthirst.  
  
Jake was also a quiet kid in school with few friends who was bullied constantly and would often receive detentions for beating anybody who picked on him into a bloody pulp. It would also be in his formative years where he would commit his earliest crimes, starting small with shoplifting and burglary and moving up to bigger crimes as he reached his teens such as grand theft auto, assault, arson, armed robbery, extortion, and drug dealing.  
  
It wasn't until several weeks after his high school graduation when Jake would finally commit his first murder.  
  
He arrived home late from a friend's house one stormy night to find his mother lying in a pool of her own blood and his father standing over her prone corpse with a smoking gun in hand. He told Jake that both him and his brother made him do it stemming from their constant run-ins with the law and that he wanted to make both of them suffer for the error of their ways seeing as their mother always seemed to defend them from his wrath.  
  
A brief struggle would then ensue and by the end of that night his father would be lying prone in a pool of his own blood after taking a bullet straight to the heart. Jake Cavanaugh's first victim was his very own father.  
  
Having murdered his father, Jake immediately set out for a life on the run and was never seen around his hometown or by any of his family members ever again. He would later learn from various sources that his older brother Ryan had been killed in a gang fight, his younger brother Jason had joined the army and hadn't been heard from since, his older sister Rose had become so traumatized by their parents' murders that she had tried to commit suicide and was later sentenced to a mental institution, and his other sisters Rachel and Elizabeth had never been heard from again, he suspected they had either been killed, gone into dead end jobs and were living horrible lives, or were probably actually living normal lives.  
  
He would go on to become a drifter, moving from city to city every different day with little money and few available resources, often having to resort to mugging innocent bystanders for their belongings and participating in illegal underground street fighting matches for cash. He would continue this way of life until one night when he would become involved in a barroom brawl and be saved by an individual similar to him.  
  
The man's name was Tyler Denton, better known to his associates as "The Viper" for his quick and deadly precision. He came from a background similar to that of Jake's and the two criminals would quickly bond and become like a brother to one another and go on a crime spree together that would have them wanted in several states. This reign of terror would go on until one fateful night that would change Jake's life forever.  
  
The Viper and the Red Dragon, along with four accomplices, hatched an elaborate scheme to rob the Carcer City Municipal Bank. It was a quick job that had gone along smoothly until one of the hostages managed to trip the robbery alarm, prompting the robbers to kill off all of the hostages present and then attempt a daring escape. The five bank robbers would make their way out of the bank quickly attempting to reach a getaway van with a waiting driver at the end of the alley, with Viper taking the front and Jake covering the rear. Along the way, Jake had managed to take out two arriving police officers commencing chase and would move on until he heard a volley of gunfire in front of him.  
  
He rushed to the front of the alley only to find three of his accomplices shot to death by an unknown assailant and the getaway van nowhere to be found. Another gunshot would ring out and Jake would fall over with a wound to the chest. Everything went black afterwards.  
  
Three of his teammates were dead. Viper and the getaway driver were never heard from again. Jake had been sentenced to numerous life sentences for armed robbery, assault with deadly weapons, and numerous counts of murder, including the two police officers he killed in the escape. He was sentenced to the nearby Almondville Correctional Facility, a sentence that was never to take place.  
  
Six months after his incarceration, Jake managed a daring prison break by beating up a prison guard and stealing his uniform and ID badge and then get access to a police cruiser and speed off to freedom.  
  
Once out of jail, he had managed to escape to the nearby small town of Pike Summit, where he would break into the home of an ex-soldier and kill the man and then proceed to steal some of the man's clothes, personal identification papers, weapons he had hidden all over his house, $50,000 of cash the man had hidden in a safe in his office, and the man's vehicle.  
  
Having made his daring escape and now in search of work, there was only one place Jake could go where he could truly make a name for himself in the world of organized crime, Liberty City.  
  
Immediately after his arrival in the crime-ridden cesspool of Liberty City, the young criminal-for-hire started small time working for a local club owner named Iceman, who needed help dealing with the remnants of the Hispanic-American Diablo street gang and their temporary allies in the form of the Chinese Triads. Shortly thereafter, another Hispanic street gang calling themselves The Lobos came to town looking to settle a score with the Diablos and Jake's services were recommended. After a series of brutal and bloody confrontations, the Diablos and Triads were both totally wiped out and Jake would catch the attention of another criminal syndicate looking to reclaim their power on Portland.  
  
The Forelli Family had once been a powerful force in Liberty City and had owned half of the island itself, however the arrival of the additional gangs and warring with the rival Leone Family Mafia would cause them to lose their place of prominence. Additional incidents such as the infamous "Harwood Massacre" involving a young Forelli Family cleaner named Tommy Vercetti and the arrival of a nameless hired thug in a black leather jacket working for the Leone Family would cause their numbers to dwindle even more. Jake Cavanaugh seemed like a saving grace for them. They believed that with the death of the Leone Family Mafia's don Salvatore and the Leone's trouble with the Triads and Cartel that they would be distracted to the point where they could use the young mercenary to strike a fatal blow upon the rival dynasty and assure the Forelli's return to power.  
  
Jake Cavanaugh would serve the Forelli Family Mafia with great loyalty and would perform several deeds for them that involved striking directly at the Leone Family and their interests. He would continue service to them until he was given the assignment of eliminating the man in the leather jacket, known around Liberty City by several names including "Fido," "The Cleaner," "The Reaper," and just simply "The Man in the Leather Jacket." The man's real name was Matt Logan.  
  
The assassination attempt was botched by interference from the Cartel and Jake would immediately be marked for death for his failure. A Forelli hit squad attacked Jake's hideout and he would barely make it out alive. It would be a timely intervention from Matt Logan himself that would save the young criminal-for-hire's life.  
  
On the run from the gangs of Portland, Jake went to work for Logan and would perform numerous errands for him that involved striking at the Colombian Cartel and the Jamaican Uptown Yardies, as well as doing sidework for the Yakuza of Staunton Island and the Southside Hoods of Shoreside Vale. Once the menace of the Cartel had been taken care of, Jake left Liberty City to explore greener pastures elsewhere.  
  
Washington City would be Jake's next destination, where he would do work for numerous street gangs, corrupt politicians, ruthless businessmen, and other assorted scum and would even be tracked down by the Colombian Cartel to there, where they would set a trap for him at the city docks. Fortunately, it would be another timely intervention that would save the young man's life, this time from an old familiar face.  
  
It was Viper and he had come back to save his old comrade from certain doom. After catching up on old times the two men would go to work for a new crime boss, a young up-and-coming Mafia hitman named Tony Cappelli, who was looking to expand his uncle's vast empire. Working under the young Cappelli's direction for several months would enable him to gain control of a majority of Washington City's major business assets and provide him with his own criminal army. Impressed by the skills of both men, Anthony Cappelli would go on to introduce them to his uncle, The Harwood Butcher himself and current Vice City coke baron, Tommy Vercetti.  
  
Relocating to Vice City, The Viper and The Red Dragon would perform many more tasks for the aging crimelord, as well as several associates of his including the former head of Love Media, Donald Love, ruthless real estate mogul Avery Carrington, cafe owner and leader of the Cuban street gang Umberto Robina, Vercetti's personal attorney Ken Rosenberg, biker gang leader "Big" Mitch Baker, washed up rock manager Kent Paul, and the fugitive military man Colonel Juan Garcia Cortez. Unfortunately, the ever defiant pursuing Colombian Cartel had also tracked Jake and Viper to Vice City and would attempt to eradicate them once and for all in another city where they had plentiful connections.  
  
Constantly on the run from their enemies, Jake and Viper fought valiantly against all opposition until the unspeakable occurred.  
  
Viper, the very man who had been like a brother to Jake and had been his partner in crime for years and had saved him on numerous occasions in the past turned on him. He revealed that it was he who shot Jake in the chest on that fateful night because he viewed the young criminal as "troublesome excess baggage" that was holding him back from reaching higher glory and wanted him dealt with immediately, but he never expected that he would make it out alive.  
  
Fueled by anger and vengeance, Jake lashed out at his former best friend and partner and the two of them went at it in a bloody confrontation in an abandoned factory that would last several hours and nearly kill the young man, but in the end The Red Dragon would emerge victorious and send Viper falling to his death from a nearby cliff. That would not be the only tragedy that would occur that night.  
  
Using their connections to corrupt city officials, the Cartel had managed to send a squad of heavily armed S.W.A.T. and F.B.I. agents to raid the Vercetti Estate on Starfish Island. When the night ended, a majority of Vercetti's henchmen had either been killed, arrested, or reported missing and Tommy Vercetti himself had died trying to defend his empire, this fatal blow left Jake without work and had forced him to resume his life on the run. He is currently wanted for numerous counts of several major crimes such as murder, arson, grand theft auto, assault and battery, armed robbery, extortion, vehicular manslaughter, arms smuggling, drug dealing, impersonating a police officer, and so much more.  
  
At the moment, Jake Cavanaugh was once again working as a criminal-for-hire and was accepting any assignment from the highest bidder. In addition to his previous track record, Jake was a jack of all trades with training in all kinds of firearms, both small arms, heavy artillery, explosives, and even simple melee weapons, a skilled hand-to-hand fighter with training in several different fighting disciplines, lockpicking, electronics, computer hacking, demolitions, first-aid, and mechanical repair. He was in high demand and was determined to stay that way.  
  
Jake let out a deep sigh as he stepped back from the mirror and walked into his bedroom. To call his small bedroom a total mess was an understatement, it looked like a warzone.  
  
His small two person bed was always unkempt and the sheets were tattered and worn, barely keeping him warm some nights, the walls were covered with an ugly green and gold pattern wallpaper that was peeling and exposing several holes in the wall underneath, the filthy gray carpeting was full of holes and covered with numerous different kinds of stains, including blood, and at the moment was littered with empty cans, food wrappers, crumpled papers, discarded articles of clothing, and a smelly pizza box. Other than his bed, his other furniture consisted of a small nightstand next to his bed which held his alarm clock, cell phone, and a small lamp, in the northeast corner of the room sat a small dresser and next to it a stand up cabinet which held several coats and shirts, a tall floor lamp which sat near his door, and a large mirror which rested on the wall near his lone bedroom window.  
  
Jake walked over to his dresser and pulled out some clothes throwing on a pair of boxers and socks followed by a black t-shirt with an elaborate red dragon design that closely resembled the dragon tattoo on his upper right arm, black cargo pants, red, white, and black colored Nike tennis shoes, and then slid on some black fingerless gloves. He then walked over to the cabinet and pulled out several holsters, the first of which was a belt with a hip holster that he tied around his waist, then a shoulder holster which often held his more powerful sidearms, and then a small holster around his shin which held his concealed combat knife. He then slid on a Kevlar bulletproof vest and then pulled out a large black trenchcoat which held several concealed pockets where he would keep his weapons, ammo, and other important objects. He then walked over to his nightstand and grabbed his pair of War Eagle sunglasses and cell phone and then entered his living room.  
  
The living room was not in much better condition than the bedroom. The walls and carpet were slightly cleaner in the living room/kitchen area, but the furniture was no better. Against the wall sat a large couch covered by numerous stains and full of all kinds of different tears in the fabric, a chair sat in front of the kitchen counter that was in the same condition as the couch, and in front of them sat a small coffee table covered with numerous crumpled papers and empty cans and food containers. The nearby kitchen area had counters covered in empty food containers and grocery bags and the sink was full of dirty dishes and the small refrigerator wasn't in much better condition and was nearly empty, meaning the owner would have to go out and buy some more food pretty soon. A small television sat near the east wall currently turned off at the moment and near the entranceway sat a large bookshelf that was strangely empty. Several beautiful landscape paintings covered the walls as well, definitely out of place with the shabby environment they were placed in.  
  
Jake walked over to the forest painting that sat above the television set and pulled it aside to reveal a small electronic keypad. He typed in a four digit code and a loud ding filled the small room. Immediately the bookshelf would open up to reveal a small secret room that he used as his private armory.  
  
Inside the small room was a weapon lover's dream come true. On the left wall sat a rack filled with numerous different types of shotguns, among them a Remington M800, Remington M1100, M210 sawed-off, customized Remington M1100 pump-action, Benelli M3S, Western Custom M37, Mark 3-A2, and SPAS-12 semi-automatic assault shotgun. On the right wall sat several different kinds of assault rifles and submachine guns, among them a Colt M-4, M4A1 variation, Ruger, AK-47, M-11 silenced submachine gun, H&K MP-5, MAC 11, Ingram MAC 10, TEC-9, and a PSG-1 sniper rifle. Kept in a small case beneath the shotgun rack were several different types of handguns including a Beretta 9mm., H&K VP-70, Browning HP, Colt .45, Glock-17, Beretta M92 tranquilizer pistol, silenced SOCOM military pistol, customized Desert Eagle 50A.E magnum, S&W M629C Magnum, Colt Python .357 Magnum Revolver, Sigpro SP2009, customized STI Eagle 6.0 handgun, and an M92F customized handgun.  
  
At the front of the room sat a small wooden table with a laptop computer positioned atop it. Next to the table sat an M-249 Squad Automatic Weapon (S.A.W.) or mini-gun and a crate full of fragmentation grenades. Several other important weapons and items were present in the room as well such as combat knives, a machete, bulletproof vests, first-aid kits, night-vision goggles, thermo goggles, a mine detector, a camera scrambler, communication radios, jars of gunpowder, C-4 explosives, brass knuckles, a hand tazer, a chainsaw covered in dried blood, and numerous boxes and clips of ammunition that would have enabled Jake to start his own criminal empire had he wished. Above the small table sat an ancient sword with a beautiful dragon design on the handle which he had kept as a souvenir after he eliminated a Triad warlord back in Liberty City.  
  
The criminal-for-hire walked over to the case and pulled out a Beretta 9mm. and slid it into his waist holster and grabbed five clips for the sidearm and slid them into his pockets. Next he grabbed the S&W M629C and slid it into his shoulder holster and grabbed six speed loaders for the powerful gun. He then reached onto the rack in front of him and grabbed the SPAS-12 and slid into a special holster on the inside of his trenchcoat to keep it concealed from the public and jammed his pockets full of shells for the gun. For his last weapon he grabbed a large survival knife and slid it into the shin holster and pulled his pant leg over it to conceal it. For extra precaution, Jake grabbed a can of Umbrella manufactured first-aid spray and some hemostat pills and slid them into a compartment on his belt and then grabbed a lighter and lockpick and slid them into another pouch.  
  
"This is it." he said to himself. He stepped out into his living room and slipped his sunglasses on over his cold blue-gray eyes. He walked out his front door and made his way to the parking garage where he would then get into his jeep and begin his journey towards Raccoon City.  
  
He tried to tell himself that he was ready for this assignment, but deep down a voice was telling him that something was up and that he had better not underestimate the man he was being sent after.  
  
To Jake Cavanaugh this was an assassination mission and he was told he would be paid ten million dollars for performing this job.  
  
He had no idea what he was about to be sent into and what seems like a simple mission is actually the beginning of a nightmare that will forever change his life.  
  
Author's Note: Well this is the beginning of a new fic I have been thinking up ideas for quite some time now. I have decided to include my Jake Cavanaugh character because I've been thinking up ideas for him now for quite some time and I would definitely like to develop him more which is why I have decided to include him in other genres outside of Grand Theft Auto. Well this is the beginning of a journey into a nightmare for Jake and we will see how he fares in the coming chapters. 


	2. Chapter 1: When Darkness Falls

Darkness Arises by E-Z B  
  
Author's Notes: I am proud to present to you the first real chapter of my new fic. I want to apologize to some of the readers who probably read my first chapter and thought that I committed overkill when I included all of those details about Jake's past, but I had a bunch of ideas about him in my head and I had to get them out or else I would have gone nuts. Anyways, read and review when you get the chance.  
  
Chapter 1: When Darkness Falls  
  
Jake Cavanaugh sat quietly at the small table in the corner of the bar eating a cheeseburger and drinking some Loco Cola soda. He had to remain sober while on missions and no matter how simple an assassination mission was he still had to be on top of his game. The man he was after may have been a wimpy scientist, but still everybody had their surprises.  
  
The young criminal-for-hire had been in Raccoon City for two days now and so far things had been quiet in the small metropolis. Mysterious attacks had been taking place at random locations around the city and so far a majority of the local citizens had been staying in after dark hoping to be safe from the sinister happenings. He could understand their obvious plight, but he wasn't normal like them. He had seen enough death in his life to become almost completely desensitized to it.  
  
Jake let out a slight grunt and sat back as he observed the other people in the room with him. Several men sat at the counter to his right. Closest to him sat a middle aged man with short neatly combed dark brown hair and dressed in an expensive looking suit. The man sat quietly at the counter watching a news report about a riot that occurred at a Raccoon City Sharks football game in which several people were injured.  
  
"Probably a doctor or a lawyer." Jake thought to himself as he moved on to observe the next man. The next individual was a man who looked to be in his thirties wearing dirty yellow pants and a shirt. He also wore a tool belt around his waist signalling that he must have worked in some kind of manual labor. His long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail and he let out a barely audible sigh as he drank from his glass and watched the news report.  
  
Not too far away from the laborer sat a young man with semi-long shaggy brown hair dressed in what looked like a riot officer uniform ordering yet another drink as he had finished his last drink.  
  
"A pig in an establishment like this of all places? So this is what the Raccoon Police Department has to offer? A pretty boy drunk!" Jake thought to himself as he narrowed his eyes and observed the young officer with great intent.  
  
Being a career criminal, Jake naturally did not care much for the police and nor did he like being in the same room with them even when they weren't hunting him down. As long as this man kept his distance he would be all right he thought to himself as he took a bite of his burger.  
  
Sitting near the police officer were two more individuals. The first was a large, robust-looking African-American man dressed in a security guard's uniform who was in the middle of eating a large steak. Next to him sat a much smaller white man dressed in the same attire who at the moment appeared to be passed out on the counter in front of him.  
  
Looking beyond the bar counter he spotted another man playing what appeared to be a video poker machine. This individual appeared to be in his mid fifties with rapidly graying hair and a burly physique that matched up perfectly with his great height. He wore a filthy looking tan colored jacket and reached into his front pocket pulling out what Jake observed to be the man's third cigarette he had smoked while he was there, lighting it up with a finely crafted gold lighter.  
  
The bar itself was tended by a young, well-groomed gentleman who worked diligently to ensure that the bar maintained its presentable appearance and was currently in the middle of cleaning plates and shot glasses.  
  
Jake then looked in front of him to see two more individuals seated near the large windows at the front of the bar. The first was a younger looking African-American man seated nearest to the main entrance wearing what looked like a subway transit worker's uniform and was in the middle of filling out what looked like a crossword puzzle. The second person closest to him was a young woman in an elegant looking red suit typing away furiously at a laptop computer.  
  
The bell attached to the front door rang out and a young woman walked in. She wore a green hooded jacket, yellow turtleneck shirt, black skirt, and fashionable looking glasses. The young woman said nothing and walked towards the women's restroom, arousing interest only from Jake, who still sat silently and took a swig of his soda.  
  
Passing the woman was another young woman, this one an attractive blonde wearing a waitress uniform and carrying a tray with two small glasses on it. She walked towards the bar counter until a rat scurried past her, prompting her to let out a small scream and drop the tray to the floor. The waitress shot an embarrassed glance at the older black man and then knelt down to sweep up the small glass shards.  
  
The front door flew open and four men and two women came dashing in all looking frightened and out of breath, prompting some worried stares from the patrons in attendance.  
  
"Huh, what's going on?" the police officer asked as he put down his drink and walked over to the small group of people gathered near the bar.  
  
Jake too would stop everything he was doing and observed the small group until he noticed something that caught his eye.  
  
"What the hell?" he asked aloud. He looked closely at one of the men, a young man with short brown hair and wearing green pants and a blood-stained yellow shirt, and saw that the man had apparently been bitten in his shoulder and was leaving a telltale trail of blood behind him.  
  
"Oh god it was horrible!" one of the women cried out as she sunk down to her knees, only to be comforted by a younger man in a red and black plaid shirt.  
  
"What happened?" the officer asked again.  
  
"We're here to report a double homicide," one of the men finally said. "We found a couple in a back alley and they looked like they got bit up pretty bad." The man then turned his attention to the bleeding man, "My friend here also got bitten by some nut job on the way here and he's bleeding pretty bad. Call an ambulance, quick!" he finished saying as he composed himself and then went to treat his friend.  
  
The man in the suit ran to the bleeding man's side. "I am a doctor, let me look at him." he said gently brushing the man's friend aside. He then looked to the man's friend, "There is a medical set in my briefcase where I was sitting at. Get it and bring to me quickly this man is losing blood fast! Get me some towels too!" he finished turning his attention to the waitress.  
  
The officer gave a quick nod and pulled out his radio and called the accident in. "Don't worry, an ambulance is on the way." he said as he moved over to question the other members of the group.  
  
Amidst all the chaos the large black security guard attempted to rouse his friend, "Aren't you eating anything? Hey Bob, where's your mind at?" he asked grabbing his friend by the shoulder and nudging him gently.  
  
Bob slowly raised his head and looked towards the larger man with a pale and sickly face. "What?" was all he could mutter.  
  
The front door opened again and another man stepped through with his head down. The man's long greasy hair fell downward obscuring his face and he only stood deathly still almost as if he was under the influence of some kind of drug. His jeans and denim jacket were worn and dirty and he gave off a smell that Jake was all too familiar with, prompting him to put his burger down and stare in disbelief.  
  
Death.  
  
Something was up with this guy and right now the only thing Jake could do was scoot his chair back and be ready to strike if the man tried anything funny.  
  
The young bartender suddenly stopped what he was doing and set his plate down. "Huh? What a weird customer!" he said aloud as he stared intently at the disheveled man.  
  
The large security guard looked up at the man and frowned, "Who is this guy?" he asked just as his friend fell to the floor from his barstool. "Bob!" he cried out and ran to his fallen friend's side. "Dammit, he's unconscious!" he said aloud as everyone else in the room suddenly turned their attention to him. One of the men who ran into the bar to report the murders knelt down to help the man who had just fallen to the floor.  
  
The young bartender stepped out from behind the bar counter and approached the man in the denim jacket. "Hello sir? May I help you?" he asked as he stood directly in front of the man. A low moan suddenly came from the man as he looked up to reveal his severely mangled face. Large patches of his skin were missing and one of his eyes had been gouged out. Before the bartender could step back, the freakish man's face twitched and his mouth opened to reveal yellow rotting teeth as he lunged towards the younger man and grabbed him by the shoulders, sinking his teeth into the bartender's neck.  
  
"Get the fuck off me you freak!" the bartender screamed as he wrestled with the man and with a great heave shoved the man out onto the street and quickly closed and locked the door behind him.  
  
"W-What the hell was that?" he asked as he sunk down to his knees and slowly backed up.  
  
Everyone in the bar fell silent for a moment and stood in utter shock at what had just happened. Even Jake stood in disbelief at what had just transpired and immediately placed his hand on his hip holster ready to draw his gun if need be.  
  
The silence was quickly shattered by loud banging and the people turned their attention to the large windows where two disfigured men could be seen pressing their faces against the windows and leaving bloody smear marks behind as they pounded relentlessly driven by primordial urges. The entire bar rose up from their seats and watched in utter horror as the sounds of more screaming people could be heard outside.  
  
"What the hell is going on here?" the younger black man squealed as he leapt out of his seat and nearly fell back into the bar counter.  
  
The woman in the red suit leapt back and pushed strands of blonde hair out of her face. "What is going on?" she asked to no one in particular as she accidentally bumped into Jake.  
  
Jake only stood silent as he stared at the freakish people banging on the windows outside. Whatever they were, they only barely managed to faze the young career criminal, but he was not afraid of them and he came ready to deal with anything that stood in his way.  
  
"Deluded fools..." he whispered as he pulled out his Beretta 9mm. handgun and inspected it to make sure that it was fully loaded and that there were no defects.  
  
The large black security guard helped stand his friend up, "Hell if I know, but this is some messed up shit here if you ask me," he grunted in response to the woman's question as he watched the two men bang on the window.  
  
"I heard that!" the police officer retorted as he and the waitress ran over to help the bartender.  
  
"Will, are you all right?" the young woman frantically asked as she tried to help the man to his feet.  
  
"That guy's a fucking maniac! Why the hell did he do that? He fucking bit me!" Will weakly bellowed as his color began to drain from blood loss.  
  
"Calm down man, you're gonna be all right." the officer said assuringly as he held the man upright. The doctor ran over to him and began treating his wounds.  
  
"Holy shit!" the subway attendant yelped as he backed away from the window. "There's more of those freaks coming this way, and they're just as fucked up looking as the rest of these freaks!" he cried out. He fell backwards and scurried behind the bar counter as the man in the denim jacket had reappeared and began banging furiously on the front door.  
  
The screams outside the bar began growing louder and Jake could see past the bloody smears that more of those freaks were slowly approaching and would quickly overrun the place if something wasn't done fast. He quickly looked over his shoulder and could see that a majority of the inhabitants were taking cover behind the bar.  
  
"That door will never hold these freaks," the black security guard shouted and ran to the barrel table the subway attendant had been sitting at. He began pushing the large and heavy table in front of the doorway to barricade it. "Help me dammit!" he cried out.  
  
The man wearing the tool belt shot up and ran over to help the guard finish pushing the barrel until it was positioned directly in front of the door.  
  
Jake stood there with pistol in hand ready to fire until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to find the police officer standing next to him, "Don't just stand there man, help us out!" He nodded silently and holstered his pistol and then ran over to help the officer push the other barrel table to reinforce the one positioned in front of the door.  
  
Jake did not trust police officers at all, but he knew that whatever was going on was seriously messed up and was beyond his control. Right now he was in a position where he would have to rely on other people to help ensure his own safety, even if it meant he would have to temporarily put aside his grievances with the system and cooperate with a cop of all people.  
  
"Everyone get behind the counter now!" the officer ordered and all of the inhabitants began crowding behind the bar counter.  
  
Jake once again withdrew his Beretta and had it trained intently on the front door. Out of the corner of his eye he looked over and saw that the man with the tool belt had pulled out a folding knife and the black security guard pulled out what appeared to be a customized Beretta 9mm. The waitress had grabbed a large kitchen knife resting in the nearby sink and the doctor had grabbed a pistol that had been abandoned on the counter, probably belonging to the bartender.  
  
Both the doctor and the police officer ran over and attempted to help Will the bartender.  
  
The doctor looked around and then looked over to the police officer. "What's your name?"  
  
"Ryman, Kevin Ryman." the officer replied coolly as he met the doctor's gaze.  
  
"Officer Ryman, I'm Doctor George Hamilton and I need you to help me get this man behind the counter immediately. He's lost a lot of blood and we need to get him to the hospital -" Dr. Hamilton continued until he was cut off by the waitress.  
  
"Here!" the young woman cried out as she brought some towels from behind the bar counter and tried to apply pressure to the bartender's neck wound.  
  
"Cindy, get behind the bar and stay there!" Kevin ordered. The young woman nodded and made a dash behind the counter, taking a spot next to Jake. Kevin the returned his attention to the doctor.  
  
Before the two men could speak amongst themselves, the door broke off of its hinges and slid to the side. Kevin quickly pulled the doctor back as three of the insane men climbed over the barricade and fell to the floor.  
  
The strong putrid odor of death filled the room as the three men staggered back to their feet and then began swarming the frightened bartender. The man's screams became deafening as he tried to fight off his attackers but was quickly overpowered by them. The sound of flesh being ripped off and bones being broken filled the air, forcing many of the patrons to look away in anguish.  
  
"Will!" Cindy screamed with tears in her eyes as she tried to rush to the man's aid, only to be held back by Jake and the man with the tool belt.  
  
Near the entrance Kevin pulled out a custom Colt .45 and tried to run to the bartender's aide, but the doctor held him back. "Let me go! I have to help him!" the young officer cried as he fought against the doctor's grip, only to look up and find several other disfigured individuals beginning to climb over the barricade as well.  
  
"Oh shit!!!" the subway attendant cried, forcing Jake to wince. "Let's get out of here! Those freaks are everywhere!" he screamed as he ran to the back door and began pounding on it when it wouldn't open. The others would then begin moving to the back door.  
  
The man with the tool belt then approached the door and tried to open it. "Shit, it's locked!" he yelled in a raspy voice as he tried ramming his shoulder into it. The large man in the tan colored jacket then approached the door and pushed the other man aside.  
  
"Let me try it!" the man spoke in a gravelly voice as he began to kick away at the door and then tried his own shoulder ram. The chaos was starting to pick up and people were beginning to panic.  
  
Jake stood cool as pandemonium erupted around him and kept his gun trained on the attackers in front of him. He had been in plenty of gang fights before, but this was no ordinary fight this was something new altogether. He saw that all of the people trying to enter the bar all looked alike with the pale peeling skin and glossed over white eyes, but he could also see that some of the people were missing limbs and some of them even had their internal organs hanging out, but yet kept on moving like nothing happened to them. This was basically something straight out of a horror movie.  
  
Through all of the chaos Jake managed to spot the bartender's corpse being torn apart and could see the look of pure terror forever etched into the man's face as his body was torn apart and blood seeped from the man's mouth. Over all the panicked voices he could once again hear the cop call out.  
  
"Cindy, where is the key to the staff room?" he called out addressing the terrified waitress as he and the doctor joined her near the back door.  
  
She paused before she spoke, "Will has it!" she whimpered as she buried her face in the man's chest.  
  
The woman in the red suit suddenly spoke up, "Get out of my way, I can pick the lock!" she screamed as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small metallic instrument and began fumbling away at the lock on the door.  
  
Jake stood towards the back of the group with his gun trained on any possible attackers until one of "them" began making its way towards him. Looking at the "thing" that stood before him even wanted to make his stomach do a triple somersault.  
  
The creature that stood before the career criminal had once been human. The thing's stomach had been slit open and the intestines were slowly spilling out and dragging behind. Its lips had been ripped from its face, exposing the rotting blood-stained teeth in a tortured smile and had empty white eyes. Getting closer he could see exposed patches of muscle and rotting sheets of flesh clinging to the thing's arms and legs. It let out a groan of frustration as it reached its long bony arms out for the young man.  
  
"I don't think so freak!" Jake growled as he fired a shot into the creature's chest. Strangely enough the creature was only knocked back a few steps from the force of the impact only to resume its pursuit of its prey.  
  
"What's up with that guy? That was a clean hit." Jake said as he fired more bullets into his oncoming attacker, who continued moving as if the bullets were mere mosquito bites. He finally fired a shot that would strike the creature between the eyes, dropping it instantly. To make sure that the creature was completely dead he ran over and stomped the thing's head in, leaving behind a shoe print in a pile of red slime that was once the creature's head.  
  
Jake was stunned by what he had just encountered. He didn't want to say it, but he had seen these things a million times before in plenty of horror movies.  
  
"Zombies..." he muttered aloud as he observed the oncoming creatures trying to pile their way into the bar. Noticing the large number caused him to snap out of his trance.  
  
"Aim for their heads!!!" he screamed over the sounds of frightened voices, undead groans, and gunfire. He took aim and then fired another round that found its mark in the side of another zombie's head. He then trained his gun on another zombie close to him and fired a single shot into the creature's face, completely obliterating the area where its eyes and nose had been. He then spotted a zombie closing in on one of the women who had come into the bar to report the homicides and delivered a quick sweep kick to the creature's feet, sending it crashing face first to the floor below. The criminal then brought his foot down and buried the zombie's face into the wooden floorboards, causing it to spasm before it finally went limp.  
  
The woman he had just saved looked up to him and smiled, "Thank you so much kind sir!" Jake only gave her a quick nod and then returned to firing upon the zombies, shooting three more dead before he was forced to reload. He looked over to the doctor and spoke, "Cover me while I'm reloading!" The doctor gave him a quick nod and fired upon the approaching zombies.  
  
As soon as Jake had finished reloading his gun a crashing sound came from the women's restroom followed by a scream. Kevin looked around and saw that several other zombies were approaching him. He withdrew his handgun and was about to fire into the nearest zombie when Jake beat him to the punch a fired a round into the creature's skull. Two more shots rang out and two additional zombies fell over dead blood gushing from their wounds the whole way down. The two younger men looked over to find the black security guard with a smoking gun in hand.  
  
"Go! Save that woman!" he screamed towards Kevin as he fired shots at two more approaching zombies. He then turned his attention to Jake, "Back him up, he's going to need it!" he shouted firing an additional shot that dropped a zombie pressing against the partition near Jake's table.  
  
Jake nodded quickly and followed Kevin into the women's restroom. The two men saw the young Asian woman from before being pulled by an arm reaching through the vent. The young officer hesitated as he saw the mangled arm pulling the woman, but would be snapped back to his senses by a shout. "Save her! I'll deal with these freaks!" Jake shouted as he fired at a zombie approaching the restroom.  
  
"Help me please!" the young woman cried as she struggled to avoid being pulled out. Kevin quickly ran over to the bloody arm and began stomping away at it, continuing until he was rewarded with the sound of the bones breaking and the woman being freed from its grasp.  
  
"Are you all right? Can you walk?" he asked the woman over the sounds of screams and groans as he helped her up.  
  
"Yes I'm fine, he didn't bite me," she said smiling at him, "Now please let's get out of here." The woman would stop to grab a scrub brush before following the officer and the criminal back into the main room.  
  
"Did you get her?" Jake asked as he shot dead a zombie that had attempted to lunge at him and only fell inches in front of him.  
  
"Yeah, she's right here!" Kevin said motioning to the young woman. The officer then turned his attention to the woman in the red suit, who was still fumbling to get the back door open. "What the hell is taking so long?" he shouted over the gunfire as several of the unarmed patrons were now fighting off any of the zombies that managed to reach them.  
  
"Ah! I'm trying but some of these fucking people aren't giving me any room to work!" the woman snapped as she tried to maintain her concentration while picking the lock. Despite all the frightened shouting, tortured groans, and gunfire, the click of the door's lock being undone could be heard by all. "All right, I got it! Everybody in now!" she barked throwing herself through the door.  
  
Jake breathed a quick sigh of relief and watched as the men and women charged through the door and began sprinting up the stairs. Himself, Kevin, George, and the black security guard were taking up the rear firing upon any advancing zombies that were close to reaching the back door while the others made their way through.  
  
"Come on let's go!" the black man shouted as he grabbed his injured friend and began carrying him up the stairs. George was next through the door, followed closely by Kevin and Jake.  
  
The other people quickly made their way up the stairs running with enough distance between each other to ensure that nobody would trip over each other. The man who reported the double homicides was the first up the stairs continuing until he came across a window that allowed a small amount of moonlight to pass into the room. As he made his pass, the window was smashed open and a zombie reached through and pulled him out. He screamed and tried to beat the creature off of him, but in the end he was overpowered and dragged outside.  
  
The subway attendant and one of the young women who reported the homicides peered out the window and saw that the man was in the middle of being torn apart by four zombies on the street below. The woman sobbed and quickly ran on. The young man was forced to hold back the bile rising up his throat and continued up the stairs until the woman's blood curdling scream rang out.  
  
"What the hell is going on here?" the man in the tan colored jacket called out as he ran ahead of the group to help the young woman. He rounded the corner to find the woman, who was dressed in a business suit, struggling with another zombie only to have the much larger beast sink its rotting teeth into her warm neck and pull out a large chunk of flesh, severing her windpipe and killing her instantly.  
  
"Get away from her you freak!!!" the young man in the plaid shirt cried out as he did a shoulder tackle into the creature, forcing it to break its hold and drop the woman to the floor. The young man and the older man then began to kick the monster repeatedly as it lay on the floor and then pulled the attacker up by his clothing and threw him out another window, sending him crashing to the ground from the second story.  
  
The man with the tool belt grabbed a discarded sheet and draped it over the dead woman's body and then turned to the others, "Move on, don't look at her!" he ordered as he helped the bleeding man who had stumbled to the floor and was now carrying him.  
  
Jake was the last person through the door quickly closing it and locking it behind him. A mere second later the zombies outside began banging on the door and the career criminal was nearly thrown forward as he felt the force of a zombie throwing its entire body against the door. He quickly braced the door as the zombies banged feverously on the other side and he could feel his ears getting sore from the loud moans and then looked up to see the officer assisting the older security guard up the stairs.  
  
"Hey Cop! Give me a hand here would ya'?" he screamed as he was nearly thrown foreward by another powerful vibration. The officer stopped what he was doing and ran back down the stairs and helped move a large cabinet in front of the door. With the cabinet securely in place the two men exchanged a quick nod and bolted up the stairs and coming across the young businesswoman's body covered by the bloody sheet. Kevin reached down to inspect the woman's body, but Jake held him back and looked him in the eye.  
  
"She's dead now. There is nothing more we can do for her." the younger man spoke with little or no emotion as he turned to join the others in the staff room.  
  
Kevin stood there saying nothing. He was angry at himself for not being able to save the young woman. He had failed his sworn duty to serve and protect. At the same time he was perplexed by the way the man in black addressed the situation with seemingly little or no emotion in his voice and the way he managed to blow away half those zombies downstairs without flinching.  
  
Jake walked into the staff room followed closely by the police officer. He could see the looks of fear and disgust on everybody's faces from the events that had just transpired. He too had felt some disgust at what had just occurred and showed fake signs of concern, knowing that his usually calm, blank demeanor would make him stand out and arouse suspicions.  
  
"Everyone we need to keep this situation cool and under control. We are safe for now and need to find a way to escape from this place, but for now I need all of you to stay put and find something to arm yourselves with! Okay?" The man was trying to remain calm and collected, but Jake could see right through the man's facade and see that he was just as nervous as everybody else present.  
  
"Stay cool? How the hell can we stay cool at a time like this?" the woman in the red suit called out. "Some guy just got eaten alive downstairs, another man just got pulled out a window, and an innocent woman just got her throat torn out, not to mention all those freaks running around outside! I for one would like to know what the fuck is going on and what are you going to do about it?" the woman demanded followed by several other people nodding in agreement.  
  
"Yeah man!" the subway attendant called out, "I don't wanna die here. You're a cop you should be doing something about it!" he blurted out sounding like he was losing his sanity.  
  
"Look people, we need to stay calm and work together if we're going to make it out of this mess alive. For now we need to find a way to keep those freaks out of here while we formulate some kind of escape plan." Kevin spoke looking around the room for anything they could use to barricade the staff room entrance with. He looked near the entrance and saw several pieces of plywood resting nearby. "Score!" he shouted aloud and ran over to inspect the wood realizing he would need a hammer and nails for the barricade.  
  
The black security guard appeared before him with an item in hand, "Here, you can use this." he said presenting the industrial-strength nail gun to the officer.  
  
The officer smiled to the guard and graciously accepted the nail gun, "Thanks. Mind giving me a hand here?" he asked as he began to move the wooden boards into place. The guard held the boards as and the officer began firing nails in place.  
  
Jake suddenly appeared behind the men. He hated to admit it, but he owed his survival to a cop of all people and knew that if he was going to be around the man he would have to earn his trust. Besides, he could always ditch the man later if he ever found out who he was.  
  
"Need some help?" Jake asked approaching the men. The cop turned to address him, "Thanks, we're going to need all the help we can get." Their small conversation was broken by the sounds of shuffling coming from the outside hall. The businesswoman who had been murdered in the hall suddenly staggered towards them with her arms outstretched and blood still pouring out of her neck wound.  
  
"It can't be!" the guard gasped as he stared in disbelief and staggered backwards at the sight of the young woman. The woman looked the same as the others downstairs and was approaching them with the same murderous intent.  
  
BAM!!!  
  
A gunshot erupted and a second later the woman convulsed and hit the floor with a heavy thud, blood gushing out of a wound in her forehead as she fell backwards.  
  
The two men turned around to find Jake standing there with a smoking gun in hand. The officer did not know what to say right away, but the guard quickly thanked him. "Thank you so much, kid. Whatever happened to her is the same thing happening to those freaks downstairs."  
  
"Yeah man, you just saved our asses." the officer added as he stood up to look Jake directly in the eyes. The other man still felt a certain suspicion about him, but for now he would keep it to himself to avoid scaring the other survivors.  
  
"I'm Mark. Mark Wilkins." the security guard said offering his hand to Jake. The criminal accepted his handshake, "I'm Jake." he replied. The officer then stood up and shook Jake's hand, "I'm Officer Ryman, but you can call me Kevin."  
  
"No problem man." Jake replied holding a board along the frame of the entrance. The officer quickly moved over and nailed the board to the wall and then waited for the guard to hold up another board.  
  
"Thanks for helping downstairs too. You helped save a lot of lives." the officer said holding a board down and firing the nail gun again.  
  
"Sure thing," he said letting out a small chuckle.  
  
Jake found it odd that he was actually standing around joking with a police officer and a security guard and that neither man was trying to bust him, but still he had to keep his guard up having dealt with undercover officers in the past who tried the same tricks with him. Then again, he actually laughed and found that humor was actually a welcome element in a time like this.  
  
After several minutes of nailing down the boards, the barricade was finished. 


	3. Chapter 2: Plague Rages

Darkness Arises by E-Z B  
  
Chapter 2: Plague Rages  
  
Minutes had passed and a majority of the banging sounds had ceased for now, save for the occasional anguished moan or gunshot from outside. Things had momentarily settled down and many of the people had managed to regain their composure, during this time, names were exchanged and so were some minor details about their lives.  
  
Jake stood near a large desk located near the barricaded entrance taking a drink from a water bottle he had found in the small refrigerator. He had not been able to finish his dinner downstairs so he had to savor what liquid was left in the bottle. He looked from person to person trying to remember all of their names. When asked about his identity and background, he simply gave them an alias he had used plenty of times before, Jake Smith, and that he worked for a security firm and was in Raccoon City on a vacation.  
  
The career criminal honestly had no idea how long that cover would serve him here in this whacked out city, but for now it was all he had. For now all he had to worry about was surviving whatever was going on and hopefully complete his mission so he could receive the big payoff awaiting him. He began to study the other survivors closely.  
  
Sitting on a couch located at the rear of the room was the woman in the red suit who had picked the lock. She introduced herself as Alyssa Ashcroft, an investigative reporter with the local Raccoon Press. If there was another group of people that Jake could not stand besides the police, it was the press, always sticking their noses in where they didn't belong. He recalled working for several bosses who had paid him handsomely to eliminate nosey reporters who had either gathered evidence or dirt to be used for blackmail and he had never missed his target, this woman would fall to the same fate if she didn't keep her distance. He could tell by her demeanor right away that she was very assertive and argumentative, another thing that got under his skin.  
  
Pacing nervously in the center of the room was Jim Chapman, a subway transit worker. The first thing that the other survivors picked up about him was his cowardice. Jake did not blame the man for being frightened in a time like this, but his inability to control his fear and his whiny disposition would cause trouble down the line, leading the hardened criminal to believe that they should just dump him and get it over with, but he knew that the others would not go for it.  
  
Standing near the refrigerator was the young woman the police officer had saved in the women's restroom, her name was Yoko Suzuki and she was a student at the local university. She appeared to be a highly intelligent individual, yet at the same time very timid, almost as if she had a lot to hide about her past.  
  
Keeping a close eye on the barricaded entrance was Mark Wilkins, the security guard. Jake could tell right away that the man was a team player and cared about protecting those around him. He had helped tremendously downstairs and it was safe to say that if it weren't for him, a lot of people could have been injured and even killed.  
  
Mark's friend Bob Turner sat near a dartboard not too far away from him. Jake eyed the man suspiciously and could tell that the man was ill. The older man could tell that the criminal was staring at him and turned towards him with a deathly look that the young criminal had seen plenty of times on dead bodies sprawled ugly in living rooms and back alleys. The man broke into a coughing fit followed by a long groan, prompting many of the other occupants to stare at him worriedly. The groan reminded the young criminal of the kind made by the zombies downstairs and made him wonder if the man had caught what they had and was slowly becoming one of them.  
  
Walking cautiously around the room was Kevin Ryman, the police officer. Despite being a "pig," the officer seemed to handle himself pretty well and knew how to get the job done, earning him some respect from Jake, but he knew that if the officer tried anything funny then he would not hesitate to turn on him.  
  
Standing near the door leading to the owner's room was one of the young men who had rushed into the bar to report the double homicides. He was also one of the men who had tried in vain to rescue the woman who had gotten her throat torn out in the hallway. He had short, fire red hair and wore a red and black plaid shirt, blue jeans, and black sneakers. His name was Eric Sampson and he too was a student at the local university. Observing his behavior, Jake could tell that this young man was obviously very independent with a strong sense of justice who would greatly risk his life to protect those around him in danger.  
  
Located not too far away from Eric was the large, burly man in the tan colored jacket. His name was John Roper and he was a longshoreman down at the Raccoon City docks. He didn't say much else to the other survivors, but helped when needed. Jake sat there and watched as the man lit up what had been his fifth cigarette since he had been there and thought to himself if the zombies didn't kill him, those cancer sticks certainly would.  
  
Sitting at the small desk near Jake was the young woman he had saved from certain doom downstairs. Her name was Miranda Bennett and she worked as a housekeeper at the local Apple Inn hotel. She was an attractive young woman with shoulder-length reddish-brown hair, bright bluish-green eyes, tan complexion, and a nice athletic build. He watched as she pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders to prevent a fearful chill running down her spine and then saw him watching her and smiled back. She definitely seemed like a very generous, caring person, but Jake could not allow himself to get too close to her. In his line of work the closest intimate interactions he had with women were the prostitutes frequenting the cities he worked in. His life was too dangerous for him to commit to a serious relationship and he could not put such a person in harm's way, besides this woman deserved something better than a career criminal he thought to himself.  
  
Other survivors were nearby as well. In the adjoining drawing room Dr. George Hamilton tended to the man who had been bitten outside before the attack. Despite his quiet demeanor, the other survivors had already taken a liking to the man and he had seemed to naturally acquire the trust of everybody around him, even Jake looked upon him as a man he would trust to watch his back in a foxhole.  
  
The bleeding man in the chair was Dale Jeffers, a local data processor who had been out on a walk with his best friend Lenny when they along with several other people happened across what appeared to be the site of a double homicide. They were all visibly frightened by the incident and ran to the nearest place they could find to report the murders when a disfigured maniac attacked the group and bit Dale in his neck. The other men in the group had beaten the psycho up and then hauled the injured man into the bar. Right now his skin had slowly begun to turn a sickly pale color and his eyes were bloodshot. He felt weak and powerless and was quickly being consumed by an unknown virus that had left him feverish and was disoriented from blood loss.  
  
Lenny Bryce stood nearby keeping an unwavering vigil over his ailing friend. He and Dale had both been friends since childhood and worked together at the same office building. They had been on their way back from a long walk when his friend was attacked by the disfigured maniac who literally looked like one of the walking dead. The two friends had made their way to J's Bar to report a double homicide and get help for Dale when all of the madness had occurred and he was now forced to watch his best friend suffer.  
  
In the locker room across the hall, two more survivors searched the lockers for anything useful.  
  
The man wearing the dirty work clothes and tool belt was David King, a local plumber. He was a quiet individual who appeared to only speak when spoken to and was to the point about completing tasks. He was a man of mystery to the other survivors, but Jake could sense an aura of anguish from the man, caused by what was perhaps a violent past similar to his. He could sympathize with the man's plight and respected his privacy.  
  
In the room with David searching the lockers directly across from him was Cindy Lennox the waitress. At first she had come across as being a very bright and pleasant individual, but the horrors around had been difficult to cope with and she stood with her eyes tightly shut trying to shut out the horrors around her until David's raspy voice brought her back to reality.  
  
"Cindy, did you find anything useful?" he called out.  
  
The young waitress was temporarily stunned by the sound of his voice and slowly gathered her wits back, "Yeah...I found my herb case and some healing herbs, did you?"  
  
The plumber pulled out a long pole, "It's not much, but I've got an idea. Give me your knife."  
  
Cindy initially hesitated, but then quickly handed the man the large kitchen knife she had found downstairs. David pulled a roll of vinyl tape from his tool belt and taped the knife and the long pole together, creating a crude spear.  
  
"It's not much, but it should do you some good." he said assuringly. Before he could say anything else he was cut off by loud gunshots from outside. He quickly ran over to the nearby window and looked out onto the streets below. It was pure hell outside. Fires burnt everywhere, several cars had smashed into each other, shop windows had been smashed, police barricades had been smashed through, and people ran away in all directions trying to get away from the zombies loitering on the streets.  
  
Searching closely, David found the source of the gunshots. He looked down to find a lone police officer trying to guide several frightened civilians to safety and firing upon advancing hordes of the undead at the same time. There were too many zombies for the lone officer to deal with and he quickly ran out of his remaining ammo. The man stood silent in horror as the zombies grabbed a hold of him and then quickly screamed out in pain as the monsters sunk their teeth into his flesh, a brutal sight that was too much even for the young plumber to handle and he quickly looked away and stepped back from the window.  
  
"Come on, let's get out of here." he said to the young waitress as he quickly walked out of the room. David had seen enough bloodshed for one night and wanted to get out of this mess once and for all. Cindy followed closely behind him knowing instinctively not to look out the window for the fear of seeing a sight similar to what had happened to Will.  
  
"What are we going to do now?" Miranda asked as she looked around at random people hoping for a response from somebody.  
  
"We wait for a little while." Mark said watching the barricade closely. "We just have to sit tight for a little bit. If we move too fast then who knows what could happen, something I learned the hard way from fighting in 'Nam." The large man walked back into the staff room and sat down heavily on the couch across from Alyssa.  
  
"What?!?" Jim squawked, "You can't be serious! We've got tons of those freaks downstairs trying to kill us and who knows what the hell else could be out there! Please tell me you are joking around," the young man whined so harshly that he was beginning to receive stares of annoyance from all those around him.  
  
"Kid, you've got to calm down," John rasped lowering his cigarette and walking over to the young man, "If you keep freaking out like this you're only going to get yourself and others killed. Snap out of it!"  
  
"Calm down? Calm down! What the hell are you saying? I don't wanna die, especially in this place of all places!" Jim bellowed flailing his arms all over and bouncing up and down like a toddler throwing a tantrum. He continued to ramble until a large shadow enveloped his form and a warm breath was felt along the back of his neck.  
  
"Wha...." Jim whimpered aloud and slowly turned around to see the much larger figure of Jake standing behind him with a menacing death glare that expressed his displeasure. "Oh dear lord...."  
  
Jake stood tall over the subway attendant dwarfing him by roughly six inches. His cold blue-gray eyes narrowed and his large eyebrows slanted to give him a sinister, almost hypnotic stare that easily pierced through the smaller man's will. "Hey man," he boomed, "I suggest you listen to that kindly gentlemen and shut your trap, or else those zombies won't be the only thing out there trying to kill you," he finished cracking his knuckles at the same time.  
  
"Ahhh!!!" Jim cried as he fell backwards and scurried over to the couch where Mark sat. All of the other survivors looked on in astonishment at how the criminal was able to intimidate Jim with such ease and some of them even felt the horror that the subway attendant felt, knowing that Jake is somebody they should not try pissing off. To them, not only did he look frightening enough with his large size, cold stare, and dark vampire-like clothes, but he also appeared to be able to back it up as well.  
  
Kevin stood near the back of the room with his radio pulled out. The sounds of static filled the air as he tried calling for help, "Hello, is anybody there?" he called into the small device. More static came from the radio followed by a garbled, barely intelligible message.  
  
"All units...Main St...Barricade...Casualties..." was all that could be picked up from the transmission.  
  
"Dammit!" Kevin spat as he felt himself wanting to throw the radio onto the floor. "Looks like we might not be getting backup anytime soon," he said regretfully lowering the radio. The young officer then began pacing back and forth trying to collect his thoughts. He finally stopped and approached Cindy, "Cindy, are there any guns Jack kept around here? Any weapons that you know about?" he asked walking up to the young waitress as she rested on the couch with Alyssa.  
  
She gave a slow nod, but then picked up the pace as she remembered, "Yes. He has two. There is a magnum revolver in the desk in his office, that and he should have a shotgun kept in the drawing room cabinet. He bought them after getting reports of violent customers...Causing troubles downstairs," she added obviously thinking of Will being butchered downstairs.  
  
Kevin and Mark both looked at each other and nodded. The officer began moving towards the owner's office and Mark approached him, "I'll get the shotgun. You get the revolver then?" he asked moving towards the drawing room.  
  
"Right," Kevin returned, "Watch it in there though. Doc's still treating that one guy who got bit." Mark nodded again and disappeared into the drawing room and Kevin entered Jack's office.  
  
Jake stood silently reclining against the wall. He was a man who was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but he knew that after his display just minutes ago that too many people probably wouldn't try relying on him for help and frankly he could care less if they would or not. He knew that he could probably count on help from some of the other survivors present like Kevin, Mark, George, or Alyssa, but he had no idea how much longer he would be around them for. Once he got away at a considerable distance, he could then resume his mission that brought him to this town.  
  
A crash came from the owner's office followed by a tired grunt from Kevin, causing everybody except for Jake to jump up ready to run or ready to fight. Another crash suddenly came from the drawing room and now Jake had pulled out his handgun. The drawing room door opened and everybody was prepared to fight. They were all relieved to see Mark emerge unscathed from the adjoining room with a shotgun in hand, "I'm fine. Sorry if I scared anybody. Damned cabinet was locked and had to be opened."  
  
Another crash came from the office prompting the security guard to train the shotgun on the door. The door opened and everybody let out sighs of relief to see Kevin emerge from the office unharmed and with a large magnum revolver in hand. "I'm okay. That damned desk had some kind of weird lock on it so I had to get rough, but at least I found this baby," the officer stated proudly raising the gun into the air for all to see. Jake eyed the weapon and knew right away that it was a .357 magnum and that those guns packed a hell of a punch.  
  
Mark walked over to Eric and placed the shotgun firmly in his hands, "You know how to use one of these kid?"  
  
Eric smirked a little and pumped the action of the shotgun loading a new shell into the chamber, "Are you kidding me? I'm undefeated in the Raccoon University Unreal Tournament. Three time champion. Playing games like that you'll be bound to pick stuff up. I know I just have to point at the bad guys and kiss their asses goodbye," he boasted lowering the shotgun, "Did you check for any more shells in the cabinet?"  
  
Mark nodded and handed over a small metal case that held several more shells. "There. Just remember kid that this ain't no game you're in right now. Overconfidence will get you killed."  
  
"Amateur!" Jake scoffed crossing his arms.  
  
The college student took great offense to that remark and approached Jake raising the gun and pointing it at his chest. "Do you have a problem, man?" he spat trying to disguise the fear in his voice.  
  
Jake could tell by the look in the younger man's eyes that deep down he really feared him and would hesitate to shoot if another person crossed his path.  
  
"You think you can shoot me?" the career criminal retorted. With a lightning quick motion, Jake withdrew his handgun and trained it on the college student's chest. He looked deeper into the man's eyes hoping to play mind games with him.  
  
Eric stood there frightened. Jake gave him the same death stare that he had given Jim, one that could make even the bravest man stand down. He felt his hands shake and suddenly the shotgun began to feel very heavy and like he could drop it at any second.  
  
"Heh, I can tell you've never pointed a gun at somebody. Look at you. Your hands are shaking. Your eyes give away your fright. You're a rookie plain and simple. You probably wouldn't survive a second in an actual gunfight." Jake's eyes never left Eric's and he could see the young man slowly begin to back off and lower his shotgun.  
  
Jake kept his gun trained on the college student with a firm, unwavering grasp. He pulled the trigger.  
  
Eric jumped backwards and closed his eyes, only to hear the tick of the gun sounding throughout the room. Everyone held his or her breath at the sight of Jake still keeping his weapon trained on Eric, fearing that he would kill the young man and then the rest of them.  
  
"Safety is on," Jake said flatly, "Try that again and next time you won't be so lucky." he said in a cold, dark voice that sent chills up and down everybody's spine.  
  
"Hey settle down, both of you!" Alyssa said standing up. "We need to work together here boys, so instead of showing how big your guns are, why don't we work on finding a way out of this mess?" she said stepping between the two men.  
  
"She's right," Mark said approaching the two men. "We have a lot more problems to deal with right now and the last thing we need is you two shooting at each other," he finished grabbing Eric by the shoulders and slowly pulling him away from Jake, leading him over to John and Miranda.  
  
"Bastard..." the college student muttered under his breath, only to receive a middle finger from Jake.  
  
Kevin brushed past the small altercation and approached the door leading to the winery. "Cindy do you know where the key is?" he asked pounding his fist against the door.  
  
Cindy stood up and shook her head, "Jack must have done something with it. I have no clue what though. He probably took it home with him."  
  
"Crap, do you have any idea where Jack is?" Kevin asked standing a few inches away from the door.  
  
"No..." the waitress trailed, "Nobody has seen him around all day. Could he be...No..." she stopped herself and fought to prevent oncoming tears. Mark quickly appeared next to her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. A familiar voice came from the drawing room.  
  
"Help!!!"  
  
Kevin, Mark, and Eric quickly readied their weapons, "It's George!" Mark called out. The three men quickly made their way for the room followed closely by Jake and David.  
  
George fell backwards onto the hardwood floor beneath him. He could only watch in horror as Dale transformed into a zombie before him and proceeded to bite into Lenny, tearing his throat out right away.  
  
"By God..." was all he could utter as he watched the man, who had been a normal human being just minutes ago, tear into what had been his best friend's throat and then begin to claw away at the dead man's chest.  
  
The door flew open behind the doctor and Kevin, Mark, Eric, David, and Jake all rushed in with weapons drawn.  
  
"What the hell?" Mark gasped as he watched Dale hunched over Lenny's corpse tearing away at the dead man.  
  
"Get George out of here! Quick!" Kevin ordered as he fired a shot into Dale's shoulder hoping to get him away from his friend's corpse.  
  
David and Eric quickly grabbed the shocked doctor and hauled him out of the drawing room as the monstrosity that had once been Dale stood up and stared at his new targets with the same dead look as all of the other zombies and let out a loud groan as chunks of flesh dripped out of his mouth. The creature made its charge.  
  
BAM!!!  
  
The zombie that had once been Dale Jeffers fell backwards onto the floor next to the corpse of his former best friend with a bullet in his skull.  
  
"Not in this lifetime, bub!" Jake spat lowering his smoking handgun. A second later one of the back windows crashed and a large crow came flying into the room.  
  
BAM!!!  
  
The crow was quickly shot out of the air and fell to the floor. Jake looked over his shoulder to find Mark standing there lowering his handgun and quickly reloading it. "Gotta watch yourself kid."  
  
David re-entered the room followed closely by Jim, "Is everything taken care of?" he asked observing the carnage that lay before him.  
  
Jim walked in the small room only to step out a second later with bile building up in his throat. A second later, the sounds of the young subway attendant throwing up echoed throughout the second floor followed by a strained cry, "My life is shit!"  
  
"Pussy!" David scoffed as he searched the room and quickly found a silver lighter resting on the nearby table. Jake watched as the plumber pulled out a can of pesticide spray and a roll of vinyl tape and began to combine the three objects, in the end coming out with a makeshift flame-thrower.  
  
"Heh, I like your thinking man," Jake said giving the thumbs up.  
  
"Gotten me out of plenty sticky situations in the past." David retorted igniting the small homemade weapon.  
  
A loud, thunderous crash came from downstairs as the cabinet was knocked over and the door was knocked off of its hinges. The zombies let out tortured wails as they began stumbling over the wooden cabinet and began to slowly ascend the stairs leading to the staff room.  
  
"Shit! We've gotta go!" Kevin cried grabbing an iron pipe kept at the back of the room.  
  
Jake ran back into the staff room to find everybody else standing around with looks of fear etched across their faces. The pitiful barricade that guarded the entrance would quickly be decimated and the survivors would be eaten if something was not done immediately.  
  
Alyssa quickly moved towards the door leading to the third floor winery pulling out her lock-picking tools and quickly getting to work on the door. "Give me a minute and I'll have it open."  
  
"Lady, if you want to hurry up with that it would be greatly appreciated," John called out with his eyes fixed on the barricade of wooden boards. Yoko stood silent near the burly man with only short, deep breaths to indicate the level of fear that had built up within her.  
  
The reporter tried to ignore the comment and continued to jiggle the metallic objects in the lock when a scream had brought her attention to the entrance of the room. Miranda had let out the scream as the zombies had arrived and began banging on the wooden boards.  
  
"Come on you piece of shit," Alyssa said biting her lip as she tried to maintain her concentration while fumbling with the lock.  
  
"This shit's taking too long," Mark said flatly as his friend Bob clinged to his shoulder and he struggled to hold on to his own handgun at the same time.  
  
"Lady move, I can kick the door down," John called out impatiently as he got behind her.  
  
Jake, Kevin, George, David, and Eric took fighting positions near the hallway as the zombies began piling up in front of the entrance. Mark was right behind them with his gun ready as he held Bob at the same time. Cindy and Jim were right behind them with their melee weapons as they waited for Alyssa to finish with the lock. Miranda and Yoko, who were both unarmed as well, stood directly at the reporter's left as they waited impatiently for the lock to give way.  
  
"Give me a minute, would you? I've almost got it," as she finished speaking, the door's lock finally gave way, "See? I got it didn't I?" she said stepping back and opening the door.  
  
"Well then what the hell are we waiting for?" Jim screamed excitedly and ran through the door first. Mark and Bob moved through next followed closely by Yoko and Miranda.  
  
Jake stood his ground as he along with the three other armed men stood guard while the others made their way up the flight of stairs. "What happened to this town? And why so fast?" was all he could think to himself as he stared at the zombies pounding away on the boards.  
  
A loud crash rang out as one of the middle boards cracked. "Aw fuck!" Eric cried out as he nearly fell back from the shock. Jake fired a shot into the head of the zombie who broke the board, slumping it over as the others banged away furiously behind it.  
  
"There's too many of them!" George cried out as he fired two shots into one zombie, the first striking it in the chest and the second killing it with a head shot.  
  
"We have to go!" Kevin cried as he grabbed Eric and they both ran through the door, followed closely by George and David, "Jake come on!" the officer shouted.  
  
Jake shot down another zombie as another one of the boards gave way and backed up making his way towards the door. As he made his way through, Alyssa stood at the top of the stairs, "Hey, lock the door down there and hurry!" she screamed and ran through the door at the top of the stairs. Jake turned and locked the door only to hear another crash indicating that the board barricade had been demolished and zombies were beginning to pile into the staff room.  
  
There was a loud bang on the door as one of the zombies threw itself with all its might against the hard wooden door. Jake watched the door shake as the weight of the attacker was forced onto the door. He braced the door just as another hit nearly knocked him into the nearby wall.  
  
"Somebody help me down here!" he called out.  
  
Alyssa and David appeared at the top of the stairs and saw Jake holding the door as it began to break apart from the attacks on the other side. "David! Help him!" she demanded as she ran back down the stairs. David hesitated a little at first, but then began running full speed towards the door. John overheard Jake's pleas and appeared to provide assistance as well.  
  
Jake looked up as the three people ran towards him. "Dammit!" he cried out as another hit forced the door open, but he forced it closed.  
  
"Alyssa, go help the others!" David ordered as he and John helped brace the door. The reporter nodded and quickly made her way back up the stairs and back into the liquor room, only to be met by George.  
  
The doctor stood before Alyssa as calmly as he could, but the grim look on his face told her that he had bad news to report.  
  
"We have a problem," he whispered as Eric and Kevin appeared behind him. "An emergency shutter is down and it's blocking our way to the roof."  
  
"Shit..." the reporter muttered as she felt a wave of panic surge through her body but then quickly composed herself. "Can't we knock it down? There are plenty of us around to do it," she shot back as she looked ahead at the other survivors who had gathered near the shutter entrance.  
  
"It's gonna take some time to knock the damned thing down," Mark shouted from around the corner.  
  
"What about this?" Miranda asked as she presented a fireaxe to the security guard. Mark graciously accepted the bladed axe and began striking the shutter with all his might, only managing to make small dents in the large shutter.  
  
"Damn, that's gonna take too long. We have to find something else," Yoko cut in observing the axe's effect on the shutter.  
  
"Whatever you are doing, do it!" Jake grunted as the door was forced open again and a skinned arm shot through wrapping tightly around Jake's bicep. He tried to shake the arm off of him only to bend it backwards till he heard the bones snap. "John, David run! Get out of here!" the criminal ordered as he could feel the door being forced open once again.  
  
John gritted his teeth and shook his head, "No way! If we leave now, we won't have a place to run to in a few minutes! We've gotta stay until they get something up there!" he shouted back. Jake nodded and tried with all his might to close the door again. Another arm shot through the opening and grabbed his shoulder. He squirmed a little to free himself, only causing the door to open a little more.  
  
"Jake, stop moving man!" David ordered as he strained every muscle in his body to stop the door from opening.  
  
"Try telling that to these sick fucks!" Jake shot back as he crunched the fingers of another zombie between the door. He then looked down to David, "David, go help the others! John and I can take it from here!"  
  
David hesitated at first, "Go now!" John ordered. The plumber nodded in acknowledgment and made a mad dash up the stairs and into the liquor room to encounter Alyssa, Kevin, and Eric.  
  
"Guys, go help the others. See if you can help get that shutter up!" Right now they needed to get that shutter up and up now or else they would all be dead.  
  
"Can't we lift this thing from the bottom?" Jim called out.  
  
Mark shook his head, "We can't get our fingers under it. It's too damn heavy!" he grunted as he stood in front of the shutter and began kicking and swinging away at it with the axe with all his might. Kevin and David appeared behind Mark and joined him in kicking away at it. Eric took a hold of Bob and rested him on the nearby forklift and joined the others and began ramming it with his shoulder.  
  
Miranda stood near Bob and looked over to the older man who gave her a half smile. She tried hard to smile back hoping it could lighten the mood, but it did little or nothing to help. "Too bad we can't use this lift, huh?" he asked as he rested on the yellow machine next to her.  
  
"Wait a minute!" she blurted out as she shot her gaze over to the machine that sat almost unnoticed to the survivors. She gave the older guard a giant smile. "That's it! We can use this! Bob, you're a genius!" she beamed, but it quickly sunk in that she didn't have a key to operate the machine. "Does anybody know where the forklift key is?"  
  
Cindy's face lit up, "I know where that is! I'll get it!" she cried out with excitement and a new found sense of hope. "Eric, go with her!" George ordered as he, Mark, and Kevin continued to pound away at the shutter. Eric quickly nodded and followed behind the young woman. The two of them ran past the shelves holding bottles of alcohol and came across Alyssa who was watching as Jake and John were still fighting to hold the door shut, which was now beginning to open more frequently.  
  
"Eric, help them out," Cindy ordered as she ran into the small wine room. As soon as she entered the small wine room, she ran over to the desk and began searching frantically for the key, knocking several papers down in the process until she heard a metallic clink. She then knelt down and brushed the papers aside until she found the small red key.  
  
The door opened behind her causing her to jump, but she was quickly relieved to see that it was only Eric and he was moving over towards the barrels. "I've got an idea," he exclaimed dashing over towards the large barrels and a crate located near the entrance, "Help me out!"  
  
Cindy complied and along with Alyssa helped Eric roll two large barrels and a crate into the stairway where Jake and John fought valiantly to hold the door shut. Alyssa then turned her attention to the waitress, "Cindy, go start up the forklift. Eric and I are going to slow these freaks down." She nodded and ran back into the liquor room.  
  
Alyssa struggled for a brief moment before she finally rolled her barrel onto its side and then called down to Jake and John. "Jake, John, let the door go and get up here now!" she shouted as both men shifted their weight on the door they fought desperately to hold shut.  
  
"Here goes nothing," Jake thought to himself. He looked over to John and they both shared a nod without a word before making a mad dash up the stairs. The two men quickly made their way past her and Eric and then she looked over to the college student, "Let's slow these freaks down," she said as she pushed her barrel down the flight of stairs. At the same time the barrel went flying down the stairs, the zombies had broken the door off of its hinges and piled in at full force, only to crush several of the attackers ascending the stairs.  
  
"Eat this you freaks!" Eric called out as he sent his barrel flying down the stairs with heavy thuds and crushing additional attackers trying to climb over the wreckage left by the first barrel. Looking over to Alyssa, they both shared a nod and then heaved the heavy crate down the stairs to block the entrance and further slow down their attackers. They turned around and then re-entered the liquor room.  
  
Jake and John both stood near the entrance huffing and puffing after their recent heroics. "Thank you so much, miss," John muttered and then made his way over to a shelf where he gathered some empty liquor bottles and discarded newspapers and ran towards the back of the room. They then looked to Jake who gave them a quick nod, "I gotta say thanks to both of you too."  
  
Alyssa grunted, "Yeah, well we should be thanking both of you too. You guys did good holding the door as long as you could. Bought us all a lot of free time. Now come on, let's get out of here," she said barely holding back a smile. The cracking of wood suddenly filled the air and the trio looked down to find the door splinter followed by the barrels and crate.  
  
"Ah shit, these things never give up!" Eric bellowed wiping sweat from his forehead. The sound of a motor coming to life and the forklift lifting something echoed throughout the large room.  
  
"Fuck that shit, lets go," Jake said motioning for the other two to run on ahead of him while he followed close behind.  
  
"Come on," David yelled over the sound of the humming machine. He quickly made his way up the ladder attached to the shelves and then waited as the forklift made bridge using the crates positioned on its arms. The plumber quickly shuffled across the makeshift bridge to a vent that led to the roof entrance staircase. "Hurry up, god dammit," he barked as he continued to make his way towards the vent opening.  
  
"You don't have to tell us twice," Kevin shot back as he ran over to the ladder and together with Mark helped Bob up the ladder. As soon as the older man had reached the top of the ladder he was followed closely by Kevin, then Mark, and then so on. When it had finally come to Miranda's turn to climb the ladder, the door connecting the staff room and the liquor room burst open.  
  
Another stunned silence filled the air until it was broken by Alyssa, "No...No this cannot be! It doesn't make any sense. This can't be possible," she said in utter disbelief as Jake ended up dragging her towards the ladder.  
  
"Worry about them later," Jake said pressing her against the steel bars. Feeling the cool steel made her snap out of her trance and she began to quickly ascend the ladder.  
  
One by one, everyone waited impatiently in line until they saw the first zombie rounding the corner, prompting Jake to pull out his gun and shoot the creature dead with a clean head shot.  
  
Yoko was in the middle of her climb when she paused to stare at a zombified woman who had staggered drunkenly towards the group. "How could it come to this so quickly? Why," she whispered to herself as she finished climbing the ladder.  
  
Eric began climbing when the zombies were less than fifteen feet away and closing in. "Come on dammit, hurry!" John shouted as he and Jake waited for their respective turns to climb the ladder. Jake got on as soon as there was enough room for him to begin his climb to safety.  
  
"Don't come any closer!" John cried as he pulled out a molotov cocktail and chucked it at one of the zombies, striking it in the chest. The undead creature convulsed and threw itself into several other zombies igniting them in the process before it succumbed to the flames and fell over dead for good.  
  
John looked up and handed a molotov cocktail to Jake, "Here! You can get more from up there," he said as he threw another one into the undead crowd, igniting four zombies as it struck the ground.  
  
Jake nodded and tossed the molotov cocktail farther into the crowd, igniting six of the attacking zombies before they succumbed to the flames and fell over dead.  
  
"Hurry up down there!" Alyssa cried out as Eric threw himself onto the top ledge. She looked back to see Jake climbing at full speed just as John tossed his last molotov cocktail and then grabbed onto the rungs to begin his climb. Eric reached back and pulled Jake up and then turned to John who was only a few feet lower than him. "Come on man!" Jake called out as he turned around to help the older man.  
  
John had been up a considerable length when one of the zombies reached up and grabbed his foot and began trying to pull him down. He easily kicked off the first attacker, but two more would appear to grab onto his feet.  
  
"Help me!" he cried as he reached out with his free hand towards Jake. Jake grabbed his free hand and Eric turned around to grab onto Jake's feet while he held the older man. He kept a tight grip, but he could feel that Jake was having a heard time judging by his labored breathing as he tried to pull the man up.  
  
"Mark! George! Anybody!" Eric cried out as he saw both men had their guns aimed at John's attackers. "Cover us!" he shouted as he could see that Jake's grip on John was beginning to fail.  
  
Mark shook his head, "I can't do it! I don't have a clear shot! I'll hit John!" he shouted from near the vent.  
  
"Damn..." Eric grunted as he continued to maintain his grip on Jake. Jake himself could feel his hopes for John dwindling as he saw zombies continue piling into the room.  
  
"Dammit, is there no end to these freaks?" Jake whispered as he felt his grip on John loosen at the sight.  
  
One of the attackers reached up and sunk its teeth into John's calf, tearing away some of his flesh. "Oh god help me!" he cried as his hands slipped from the rung he hung onto below. Jake fell back as he could feel his grip loosening, but fought as hard as he could to keep him from falling.  
  
"Jake! Don't let me fall!" John screamed out in pain and fear as more of the zombies began clawing away at his legs. One of the zombies managed to wrap its arm around his waist and pull itself up to where he hung on the ladder. The weight had been too much even for a powerful guy like John and he let out another howl of pain as the zombie sunk its teeth into his shoulder, forcing him to relinquish his grip on the ladder and fall into the sea of undead below him. A final anguished cry sounded, stopping all of the survivors dead in their tracks.  
  
Jake looked down as the longshoreman tried desperately to fight the creatures off of him, but they were too much for him and he watched as several of the zombies sunk their rotting teeth into him at once and within seconds he was completely enveloped by rotting flesh.  
  
John Roper was dead.  
  
Many of the survivors stood still in horror as they listened to the sounds of groans and chewing. Even Jake would find himself stopping for a second as the sickly odor filling the air had become too much for him.  
  
"Come on, we have to get to the roof before we end up like him," Mark spoke solemnly as he slid along the top of the crates.  
  
Jake Cavanaugh had actually found himself at a loss for words. The man who had just died had given his life for all of the survivors and if something couldn't be done to avenge him then his death would be in vain. George's well-cultured voice called out from the other room waking the career criminal from his thoughts.  
  
"We have to hurry! That shutter won't last much longer!"  
  
Jake suddenly looked over to his left as he slid along the top of the crates and could see that the attackers were throwing themselves against the emergency shutter. The metal cover had been weakened by the blows from Mark's fireaxe, that along with the combined weight of all those zombies wouldn't have to wait much longer until the shutter crashed to the floor.  
  
The career criminal growled in disgust. Whatever was going on he was determined to survive it at all costs. In his own mind he was too strong and too damn stubborn to fall before these freaks and he wasn't going down without a fight. 


	4. Chapter 3: Battle For The Streets

Darkness Arises

by E-Z B

Chapter 3: Battle For The Streets

BAM!!!

The sound of a body being thrown against aluminum resonated throughout the narrow hallway, prompting the survivors to jump in fright.

"Jake come on!" George called out as he shifted his focus back and forth between the shutter and the ventilation duct Eric was crawling out of at the moment. Kevin, David and Mark stood behind George with weapons at the ready and then Eric behind them after he made it all the way out of the duct. Jim, Yoko, Cindy, and Alyssa had already made their way out onto the rooftop. Mark had given Bob to Miranda and she quickly helped him out onto the rooftop. Jake let out a loud grunt as he pulled himself into the hallway and was immediately helped to his feet by the good doctor.

The pounding on the shutter continued with the moans of the undead growing louder by the minute. Jake looked down and saw that with every blow large dents appeared in the aluminum, which had been weakened thanks to the blows from Mark's fireaxe and the additional pounding from the other desperate survivors and now was taking additional beating from the large mass of zombies and would soon split open.

"What are we waiting for? Let's move!" Mark called out. As the middle-aged security officer spoke, a thunderous crash was heard and the shutter was thrown against the adjoining wall and in an instant, an entire wave of zombies fell into the narrow hallway and stumbled drunkenly over each other as they attempted to pursue their fresh targets. The sight would have been comical if they had not been out to kill the survivors.

Without word, Jake pulled out his handgun and immediately shot one of the zombies dead and was prepared to fire another round until George stopped him.

"Forget about them, let's focus on getting out of here now," the doctor spoke, "There could be more of those things outside, we'll have to conserve our ammunition."

The doctor was right. There would be plenty more of these freaks running around out on the streets and there would be no telling when they would come across more ammo, but still at the same time Jake was feeling angry at these monsters for jeopardizing his mission and wanted to take some pent up aggression out on the bloodthirsty savages.

A loud "whoosh" filled the air and Jake turned to see David spraying the advancing zombies with a clear line of fire from his mini-flamethrower. "Go! I'll hold them off," he called out as several of the zombies fell to the cool steps, creating a wall of fire that the young plumber hoped would slow down the moving horde. "Burn in hell you rotting fucks," he grumbled as he turned to join the retreating survivors.

David was the last man to reach the rooftop where Mark and Eric were moving an old jukebox machine towards the entrance. "Help us! This will slow those damned things down," the guard called out as he applied extra weight to move the machine. The plumber joined in and helped the two men brace the broken machine against the door till it held firmly. As an extra precaution Eric stacked some wooden crates atop the old machine.

"Damn, that was close..." the security guard gasped towards the young college student, who was bent over gasping for breath himself. A call would soon interrupt his thoughts.

"Mark get over here now! Bob's not feeling too well," Miranda called out from around the corner. The three men quickly dashed around to find the older guard slumped against the wall and the young woman tending to him and trying to keep him comfortable.

Miranda looked up to the three men, her beautiful blue-green eyes had lost their twinkle and were now dulled by sorrow and concern, "It doesn't look very good. He seems very sick and I don't know if he's going to...." she abruptly stopped not wanting to say it.

Mark immediately knelt down next to his friend and then turned to the others, "You guys go on. I'll catch up in a little bit," he ordered waving them away. The other survivors complied knowing that something bad was probably about to happen and that it should be left privately between the two guards. Taking a deep breath, Mark turned to face his friend.

Before he could speak, the older man raised a hand and just stared at him with a look that sent chills down the younger guard's spine. Bob's once bright blue eyes were now dark and slowly glossing over, a look shared by those people downstairs.

"Are you okay?" he asked. The older man only coughed heavily and convulsed prompting Mark to back up a little. "Oh god, hang in there things are going to be all right," he blurted out, hoping to be of some comfort to his dying friend but it was a futile effort.

"I can't move anymore..." he spoke with great anguish, "I know me and I'm not going to be someone else's burden..." Bob quickly unholstered his handgun and put it to his temple.

"Wait Bob stop!" Mark cried as he grabbed the man's hand and held it down. The man was about to do the unthinkable and he had to stop him. Mark Wilkins had seen enough death in his life and he wasn't about to let his best friend make the same mistake.

"No..." the older man growled, "You don't understand...I'm...No different than the rest of them...I feel the hunger...," he finally shook his hand free, "S-So please...Just let me die while I'm still human..." his voice cracked with tears streaming down his face.

Bob's words hit Mark like a ton of bricks. He did not want to lose his best friend and loyal co-worker of over twenty years, but at the same time he did not want to see his best friend lose his sanity and become one of those "things" storming the bar. He had no idea what to do. He had lost a lot of close friends on the battlefield in Vietnam and a lot of innocent blood had been shed tonight and all he wanted to do was find out what was behind all of this madness and end it once and for all. He knew that his friend would never forgive him if he allowed him to continue to suffer like this so he begrudgingly took his hand away from Bob's. As soon as he removed his hand from the other man's, Bob raised his gun to his temple.

BLAM!!!  
  
Mark forced himself to blink as the gunshot rang out and he would slowly open them as he heard the thud of Bob's corpse falling to the cool concrete. Bob Turner was no more. He laid on the ground with a grim look of triumph upon his face, knowing that he was finally free of his suffering.

"Oh Bob...BOB!!!" the guard cried as he cradled his deceased friend's corpse.

A gunshot pierced the cool autumn air followed by Mark's blood curdling scream, prompting all of the other survivors to jump in fear. They all knew deep down what had just occurred and fell silent to mourn the loss of a man who had tried to help them as best as he could.

Jake stood silent near a gate that had been welded shut to prevent people from entering from the catwalk behind the large electric sign. The sound of the gunshot did not bother him at all, but the man's scream snapped him out of his train of thought and look around at the other survivors who mainly were just standing around when the incident occurred. The man's screams brought Cindy and George out of the storage room who were looking for supplies. Cindy had found a first-aid spray and George had found a magazine for his handgun.

Mark appeared from around the corner fighting to hold back tears from the recent occurrence. Kevin and Alyssa immediately went over to the man to comfort him.

"I'm sorry about what happened to your friend Mark, but you have to keep moving for his sake. His death will be in vain if you stay here and allow these things to eat you," Alyssa spoke placing a comforting hand on the tall man's shoulder, stepping out of the assertive, argumentative persona she had been displaying throughout the entire episode until now. Mark nodded and with a quick thank you walked over to Miranda and offered her Bob's handgun.

"Take it, you'll be needing this," he said offering the young hotel worker Bob's 9mm. Beretta handgun, which had been customized similarly to Mark's handgun and currently held a clip containing fourteen rounds, the first one fired by Bob himself.

"Thank you Mr. Wilkins. I'm sorry about your friend and I feel your pain," the young woman spoke softly trying to console the mentally scarred man. She quickly checked the gun over and held it at the ready in case she were to encounter any more of those freaks.

"What do we do now?" Yoko asked walking towards Kevin and Alyssa, "There has got to be millions of those things out there besides what we encountered down there, and there are only eleven of us. We don't have much for weapons and very little resources. If we don't do something soon we will all be dead."

The words hit Jim like a ton of bricks, "Oh god, I don't want to die a virgin!" Jim whined as he cowered in a nearby corner clutching his iron pipe for dear life, prompting more disgusted sighs and "we didn't need to hear that" looks from the other survivors. He continued whimpering until Jake again drew his pistol.

"What did I tell you about whining?" he asked shooting another menacing glare that froze the subway attendant in his tracks. Jim was immediately silenced after that and tried hiding behind Cindy.

Static suddenly filled the air and a police officer's voice called out from the streets below over a bullhorn.

"Attention all citizens, due to the riots in progress, this section of the city will soon be closed off. Please proceed to this area immediately. If you do not reach this checkpoint within three minutes, we cannot guarantee your safety."

Eric quickly stood up and raised his shotgun, "You heard the man, we've gotta get down there fast, but the other way out is blocked by the zombies!" Just as the college student spoke another loud bang was heard and the wooden crates atop the old jukebox blocking the door rattled. "See what I mean?"

Jake looked over his shoulder and observed the gate behind him blocking the entrance to the catwalk. It appeared to be weakened and only welded shut recently and looked like it could be brought down with a powerful attack. With a silent nod to no one, he spun around and brought his foot up, performing a powerful spinning back kick. With a loud clank, the gate was thrown off of its hinges and the other survivors stood in awe at the career criminal's display of brute strength. He only bowed and motioned towards the newly opened catwalk.

"Oh! My big strong hero!" Kevin shouted in a feminine voice inviting chuckles from some of the others. Jake was not at all amused by the officer's sense of humor.

"Quit being a fucking comedian and come on!" he shot back climbing onto the catwalk. Running quickly across the walkway with his long trenchcoat trailing behind him, Jake made a graceful leap to the ledge of the adjoining building's rooftop, grasping the sides tightly and pulling himself up with little trouble. When he had regained his momentum he turned around to face the others. "Come on!" he cried with a wave of his hand.

Kevin was the first in line and ordered the others to stay back. He then ran to the edge where he took a couple steps back and then propelled himself into the air, managing to grab onto the ledge and pull himself up with great speed. He then stood up and looked over to Jake and signalled with a silent nod for his help, "Come on and jump! We don't have much time left!"

Cindy was the first to jump, catching onto the ledge and was helped up by Kevin. Eric was next to jump, helped up by Jake who exchanged a dirty look with him as he helped him up, followed by Jim, then Yoko, then George, and on until Mark was the final person to jump, helped up by both Kevin and Jake. When all of the survivors had gathered they wasted no time entering the apartment block.

Inside, the survivors found a small empty cramped room that seemed devoid of all useful objects, save a red herb which Cindy immediately placed in her herb case. David approached the stairwell door and tried to open it, but strangely enough it would not budge, "Damn it won't open! Whoever did this probably did it because of those things outside." Deep down a lot of survivors breathed a sigh of relief that the door could not be opened, knowing that the rest of the building was probably crawling with more of those creatures. "Try the elevator."

George cautiously approached the steel door and hit the button, quickly jumping back with his gun ready after doing so. All was quiet as they listened to the hum of the elevator's engine, save for Jim's pathetic whimpering. The man was sweating profusely and clutching his iron pipe for dear life. "Damn, when I get far enough away from everybody else, I'm going to have to blast that guy," Jake thought to himself once again shaking his head at the man's cowardice.

The loud ding of the elevator filled the air and the doors slowly slid open. Much to their relief, nothing appeared from the small elevator. Mark quickly stepped up to hold the doors open and looked back to the others, "This thing has a weight limit, we'll have to go a few of us at a time." The security guard quickly moved to the back of the small car, followed by David, Alyssa, George, Cindy, and Yoko and then down they went.

The elevator reached the ground level with no problems and the six people stepped out one at a time with Mark taking point. The middle-aged security guard slowly made his way to the T-junction with gun raised at eye level ready to claim his next kill. He moved slowly and listened for moaning that could be heard from around the corner. Using a tactic he had seen his son use in one of his all-time favorite video games, Metal Gear Solid, he knocked on the nearby wall hoping to lure the enemy towards him. He looked over his shoulder to see George right behind him with his gun also raised at the ready. David had put away his makeshift flame-thrower temporarily and once again had his folding knife drawn and Cindy and Yoko both stood next to him, the waitress armed with the spear he had crafted for her and the young college student armed with a fireaxe that had been given to her by Mark. Alyssa, who was still unarmed, stood at the rear.

The zombie moved in from around the corner. It was, or had been a young woman wearing a blood splattered jogging suit with half of her face ripped off and making a quick lunge for the large guard. He quickly responded with two bullets fired into her neck, nearly snapping the head completely off her decaying body. "Move!" he shouted turning to the others and then rounded the corner and made his way to the exit followed quickly by George and Cindy.

Another crash occurred and a male zombie threw himself through the nearest window, raining glass shards down upon David, nearly grabbing him before he hit the ground. The crafty plumber quickly pulled out a heavy lug wrench and heaved it into the monstrosity's face, crushing its nose and knocking out its front teeth. Before Alyssa could run past, another zombie broke through another window and tried to grab her by the shoulders, but with a karate cry she quickly seized its wrist and shoulder flipped it into the hallway and then finished it bringing her foot down into its rotting face.

David looked on in stunned amusement, "Damn woman, you're good. Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

"Heh," she smirked, "I'm a single woman living in Raccoon City, self defense classes are a must." The two survivors just smiled to one another and then joined the others out on the street.

Just as the first group entered the street, the second group of survivors entered the ground level with a ding. Jake and Kevin took point with guns raised only to be greeted by the sight of the zombified woman whose head had nearly been blown off moments before. Miranda immediately sobbed in disgust and sorrow and buried her face into Eric's chest.

"Get her out of here now, don't look at the corpses. Go!" Kevin ordered pushing the two young people forward, "Come on, we don't have much time left!" he said addressing Jake and Jim.

Jake turned to find the frightened subway attendant still in the elevator clutching his pipe like a newborn child. He growled in disgust. "Come on you pussy!" he snapped grabbing the smaller man by the collar and nearly throwing him to the floor. With a tortured yelp, the man ran full speed from the hall and into the street, prompting a suspicious stare from the police officer, whom Jake would retort with a confident smirk and then run out onto to the street like nothing happened.

The street in front of the bar was in total chaos. Handfuls of innocent survivors ran at breakneck speeds past the small barricades and two police officers were seen firing at some of the zombies outside the bar, only to run out of ammo and be systematically overpowered and bitten into by the undead monsters. Kevin immediately ran up to the last remaining officer, an older man with a rugged face and ear-length gray hair who was firing an entire clip into a wave of approaching attackers. The man finally acknowledged the younger officer as he stopped to reload his Beretta.

"Raymond!" he cried, "What the hell is going on around here and where is everybody from the station?"

"Kevin! You startled me, I'm surprised you're still alive. This entire city's become a warzone and we're losing ground fast. We need all the help we can get," he said pulling out a Franchi SPAS-12 pump-action shotgun, "Now move those police cars to build a barricade. Go!" the older man demanded.

Kevin looked over to the other survivors and then straight ahead where several zombies could be seen encroaching upon the small enclosure, "You heard the man, we've gotta move!" he shouted and then rushed over to the cop car as instructed.

Jake stood by narrowing his eyes at the approaching zombies. He saw them as nothing more as small nuisances that would soon be dead forever. Whoever was behind their appearance was going to regret the day they were born when they met him face to face. The zombies were coming in small droves so the career criminal decided to holster his handgun and for the first time pulled out his SPAS-12 shotgun which would help him mow down more than one enemy at a time.

David immediately rushed over to assist Kevin in moving the police car while Mark would pull out his custom handgun and assumed a cover fire position near them. George and Eric took up firing positions at the other police car, which had been parked sideways and was firmly positioned against the nearest building, assuring that nobody would be able to sneak through there. Jake stood at the middle of the street with weapon ready and Officer Raymond stood close by with his own shotgun out and ready to turn some zombies into fertilizer. Miranda was the only lady carrying a firearm so she stood near Eric knowing that his shotgun didn't have the best range and was prepared to help him snipe the farther away targets. The other ladies stood towards the back of the street near a large set of medieval looking double doors with Jim nearby, still too afraid to move. Jake wanted to snuff him out as badly as he did the zombies.

"Hurry, let's move this damn thing!" Kevin grunted to the man beside him and began to push the car forward placing all his weight into his left shoulder. Thanks to the assistance from the strong young plumber he had managed to move the car a lot faster until it was firmly placed against the other patrol car and made a barricade which would slow the zombies down, unless they had the intelligence to climb over the cars, which they highly doubted.

The wave of zombies was now moving closer to the group of survivors and would be on top of them any second. Jake could not tell exactly how many were in this current group, but there had to at least be less than thirty of them and they all were dressed in different manners of clothing from casual street clothes to business suits to hospital uniforms, all drenched in the crimson fluids of either their previous victims or their own bodily wounds. They also came in all different shapes and sizes and age ranges, ranging from elderly adults to small children, yes even children were caught up in this mess!

Jake Cavanaugh would be considered a piece of shit by our society's standards, he was a career criminal and convicted killer. However, despite these circumstances he in a sense did follow his own code of honor. He never raped, tortured, or mutilated his victims, never stole items of true sentimental value from victims, and he never purposely targeted innocent bystanders, especially small children of all people, but these things were no longer ordinary human beings and he thought of himself as doing a favor to the people they once were.

Having moved the first police car into position, Kevin now withdrew his Colt .45 and David had readied his makeshift flame-thrower. They had to wait till the zombies got closer so they could take them down with lethal head shots, thus conserving their ammo in the process. "Not yet," Kevin quietly said to himself as he changed his stance readying himself for a pot shot on an approaching zombie in a cook's uniform.

Mark stood by with his handgun raised and a look of raw determination on his face that hid his mental frailty. He had fought valiantly in Vietnam, but had seen enough bloodshed that still haunted him to this day. He came to Raccoon City seeking a life of peace and prosperity and for years he had seemingly found it. This had been the city where he had spent twenty-five of his fifty-two years of life and here he had met his wife, raised his son, and held down a steady job with his best friend Bob Turner working for the city's top security firm, Raccoon Scutum Security Service. Then the murders began happening. A few of his co-workers had been among the dead and right now he was very thankful that he had sent his wife and son out of town until things had calmed down, however he was still mentally beating himself up for being unable to save his friend Bob, but he was determined to avenge him at all costs.

George Hamilton positioned himself on one of the patrol cars with his gun rested in front of him like he was taking cover during an actual shootout. He could not believe he was in this kind of position. He was trained to be a medical doctor, dedicated to treating the sick and curing their troubles, a man best kept away from the battlefield, but now here he was on the frontlines forced to fire at things that had once been ordinary citizens with lives, loves, and bright futures. Now they were mindless, ravenous beasts driven by a neverending hunger and he knew he would be next on their menu if he didn't take some kind of action.

David King stood behind the other men. He was a former gang member who grew up in an abusive household and had been in trouble with the law for much of his life. All he wanted was to escape his violent past and live a life of peace and tranquility and seemed to be on the way until this "outbreak" occurred. Now, he was forced back into the violence that had consumed much of his brief life and had to rely on his skills to make it out in one piece. Despite his great strength, he was slowly being overwhelmed by the putrid stench given off by the zombies, a combination of rotten fruit and weeks old garbage and soon he would have to break his concentration to regain his breath.

Eric Sampson stood in a similar position with his shotgun at the ready. He had not yet had the chance to fire the powerful weapon, but figured he would know how to use one based on what he had seen in the movies and in video games, only this was real life, a very messed up reality. He had seen how Jake and Mark had eliminated zombies with seemingly no mercy, but now would be his turn and he didn't know if he was ready to do this or not, but he would have to make up his mind soon.

Miranda Bennett stood near Eric clutching the handgun that had belonged to the elder security guard who had taken his own life on the bar rooftop. He looked over to her and noted that she was indeed a very attractive young lady and thought to himself that he probably should try asking her out on a date when all of this madness is over with, but he knew that he would have to compete with that mysterious Jake character after seeing how she was constantly looking at him with starry eyes. He couldn't understand what she would ever see in somebody like him. Sure, he had saved her down in the bar, but at the same time he looked like the kind of guy that you would definitely not want to encounter in a dark alley, the kind who would probably throw that poor woman against a wall and rip off her clothes and then have his way with her before killing her.

Eric did not care for Jake one bit. Not only had he pulled a handgun on him and threatened to shoot him in front of everybody else, but there was just something about that guy that did not seem right, like he had a lot to hide. Sure, he said his name was Jake Smith and that he worked for some out of town security firm, but that wasn't enough to satisfy the young college student's need for answers. He needed more, but he could tell that he would not get more information without a fight, and he knew deep down that this Jake character would waste him in less than five minutes without a second thought.

Alyssa Ashcroft stood near the back of the street next to the large double doors. She was unarmed at the moment, but had seen that these other survivors were more than capable of fending for themselves. She herself knew how to fight and knew that once she finally got her hands on a firearm of some kind that these zombies would soon be history. Being an investigative reporter meant that she would be more than likely to encounter a lot of shady types that wouldn't want her snooping around in their business, so it was always better to be safe than sorry.

She had heard all about the Spencer Estate incident in the Arklay Mountains and had even talked to some of the surviving S.T.A.R.S. members who were involved in the whole mess. They kept trying to claim that the Umbrella Corporation was behind the whole deal and that they were supposedly guinea pigs being tested for combat data against Bio-Organic Weapons (B.O.W.) claimed to have been engineered by the company. Many other reporters had dismissed them as being insane, Chief Brian Irons of the R.P.D. suspended them indefinitely, and many townspeople were employed by Umbrella and refused to talk about the incident. Trusting some internal instinct, she almost wanted to believe them herself after seeing the look in the eyes of S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team marksman, Chris Redfield. He seriously looked like he had just gone through Hell and had seen plenty of horrors no ordinary human being should have to face, there almost could be no way that he was lying.

Cindy Lennox was not a fighter. She was a waitress and probably the most popular employee at J's Bar. Everybody knew her and she was particularly well-known amongst the officers of the Raccoon Police Department, many of whom frequented the bar when their shifts were over. Here she was now out on the zombie infested streets fighting for her very survival. She didn't have much besides her job in this small city and now these freaks destroyed what little she had left. At the moment she was still fighting to block the images of Will's gruesome death from her mind, yet the current happenings were weakening her mental defenses causing the events to come back at her like a freight train, yet she had to maintain her composure or else these things would kill her for sure.

Yoko Suzuki stood near the waitress with her fireaxe raised. She was a young college student with a troubled past she would rather not acknowledge and it hurt to even think about it. Right now, she just wanted to alter her appearance and skip town and then hopefully fade back into civilization and build a new life for herself. That was not to be and she was thrust directly back into what she had been trying to escape all along.

Jim Chapman stood towards the back letting out frightened grunts with every step and moan made by the zombies approaching them. Nobody in this group really appeared to like him much because of his cowardice and narrow-mindedness, but it perturbed him how they could take it so personally. He just wanted to make it out of this whole ordeal alive. He was just a simple man working as a Raccoon Subways transit worker who hadn't had the chance to accomplish much in life yet and there were plenty of things he still had to do, like get married and start a family, buy his own house, travel the world, stuff almost everybody aspires to do.

He looked ahead to the man called Jake Smith, who stood deathly still with a shotgun in hand almost daring the monsters to come to him. The man appeared to be afraid of almost nothing and had become somebody that the young subway worker was already deathly afraid of. Other than the fear and despair he felt from this whole ordeal, annoyance and irritation were the only other emotions he could feel as a result of Jake's bullying.

The mysterious man must have been able to sense his thoughts because he suddenly turned around and glanced in Jim's direction with a flash of malice in his eyes.

"Hey chickenshit, didn't your mother teach you it's not polite to stare?" he cawed in a malevolent tone that sounded as rough as sandpaper being dragged across gravel.

Much to even his own surprise, Jim didn't let out his typical frightened squawk, but strangely enough he almost enjoyed it, preferring to feel annoyed rather than scared, perhaps the man had for once proven to be a mixed blessing in some regards.

Jake readied his shotgun as the zombies moved in further and then looked over to Officer Raymond, "Well copper, it might a good time to hand out some orders to us "grunts" now!"

Officer Raymond rested the butt of his shotgun against his shoulder and let out a battle cry, "Fire at will!"

Wasting no time, Jake centered his shotgun and picked his first target, a zombie in a torn deliveryman's uniform whose lower jaw seemed to have disintegrated. With a quick wink he pulled the trigger.

The force of the shell obliterated two thirds of the zombie's head, spraying wet crimson brain matter all over another nearby zombie in a torn business suit. As quickly as he had shot dead the first zombie, he quickly chambered another shell and fired another powerful blast into the businessman zombie, completely destroying its neck and sending its head flying through the air like a homerun.

Kevin fired a pot shot directly into a female zombie's right eye, dropping her like a sack of potatoes. He quickly went into his stance and fired another round into a shorter zombie, nearly sending the undead beast flying into the air before it hit the ground. Taking another careful shot, he managed to drop a zombie that was just inches away from one of the police cars and then continued firing away at more zombies, deciding to save his more powerful magnum for any potentially more powerful abominations they would probably encounter down the road.

From his position Eric readied himself for a shot and picked a man in torn blue jeans and a black t-shirt and did a mental countdown from three before squeezing the trigger.

KA-BOOM!!!

The thunderous blast caused the young man to jump with a frightened cry. This was his first time firing an actual weapon and the recoil from the Remington shotgun had been much more powerful than he had anticipated, making his arms numb. He looked down and saw that he had managed to blow the man's leg clean off, yet the man still continued crawling after him as if nothing had happened.

Gunshots erupted from his right and he saw Miranda fire a few wild shots into the crowd, both catching an elderly female who was only knocked back a couple feet. Eric pumped a round into the old lady, blowing her arm straight out of its socket before she would finally be dropped by a head shot from George, who had managed to drop two other zombies with the lethal technique.

Mark was now leaning over the patrol car and firing several shots into an oncoming group of zombies that had clustered together and were rapidly approaching the patrol cars, finally dropping one with a point blank head shot sprawling it onto the second car's hood.

"These fuckers are getting closer!" Eric cried as he fired a shell into the face of a tall zombie that had been reaching over the trunk of the car against the building to get at him and then fired another round into the chest of an oncoming female zombie knocking her flat on her back.

"Tell us something we don't already know Einstein!" Jake hissed firing a shell right through one of the second car's back windows and into the gut of an overweight zombie decorating the car's interior with strands of its intestines. Another zombie had taken the overweight one's place, shattering the front passenger window with its bare hand, only to be greeted by a shell to the face knocking it out for good.

Jake let out a grunt as he felt a cold, bony hand wrap its fingers around his shoe. He looked down to see a pale, scabbed hand trying to drag him underneath the patrol car and the head of a zombified woman stick out as she let out a frustrated moan. Seeing a large shard of glass barely clinging to the rear window he had shot through he quickly grabbed it and then jabbed it into the back of the woman's head, ending her struggle for good.

"Shit they're coming from underneath!" Mark cried as he began aiming his gun down and fired a shot into the head of a zombie that had slithered in from underneath one of the cars. The other survivors too would jump back as decaying hands began reaching out for their warm flesh. Officer Raymond jumped forth and fired a round into the spinal cord of a zombie that had nearly risen to its feet and stepped backwards ready for the additional approaching zombies.

"Go to hell fuckface!" Eric cried as he shot another approaching zombie in the sternum, close enough to destroy the monster's entire chest area and snap its head off to the side held to the rest of the body by a few rotting strips of flesh. He let out an animalistic growl as he fired into the torso of another approaching zombie collapsing it onto the trunk of the squad car in front of him. He tried to fire again, but his shotgun clicked empty. Desperate to remain in the fight he quickly reached into his pocket and scooped up an entire handful of shells and quickly jammed them into the empty gun's chamber. He sighed in relief as he had finally loaded the last shell into the chamber and with a natural motion pumped the gun the rested in his hands. Before he could resume fighting he felt a hand wrap around his ankle.

Eric looked down to find a hideous bald zombie with its bloody hand wrapped around his ankle and trying to pull his foot towards its mouthful of chipped teeth.

"Let go!" he screamed gathering the strength to shake his foot away and then kick the beast in its neck with enough force to snap its spinal cord. Another zombie moaned in front of him and was struggling to climb over the patrol cruiser parked in front of him. Eric again raised his shotgun to fire, but before he could he felt another set of cold dead hands yank him from his feet and send him falling flat on his back.

The young college student's shotgun clattered to the concrete beside him and he could feel pain shooting up and down his spine, but he had to ignore it for now as he felt himself being dragged towards the car. He peeked his head up to see what had once been a large, muscular man looking at him with white glossed over eyes gnashing his rotting teeth in anticipation.

"Holy shit," he thought, "This thing is going to eat me whole."

One of the young man's first instincts was not only to call out for help, but to also find a suitable handhold. The concrete he laid on had been smoothly paved and the small bumps weren't enough for him to grab hold of.

"Dammit, these sick bastards are going to tear me apart limb from limb while I scream bloody murder..." The thoughts of the zombies sinking their teeth into his skin and his blood spilling out onto the street soon hit him.

"You freaks are going to have to work for your meal!" he grunted summoning up his might and pulling one of his feet free and stomping on the zombie's right hand breaking its fingers, but another hand quickly grabbed onto his calf as he could feel the cool steel of the cruiser rubbing against his legs, telling him that they were about to pull him under.

"Help me over here!" he cried as he felt the pain of his muscles being stretched as the zombies pulled away frantically at him. He knew that his death was inevitable and regretted that he could not put up a greater fight if he was to go down at this very moment.

"Eric!" he heard a feminine voice call out and then the most wonderful feeling in the world as two warm hands, the hands of a living person, grabbed him underneath his arms and tried to pull him backwards, but was having a hard time doing it.

"Miranda! Don't let go!" Eric shouted back to her as he dug his palms into the concrete trying to pull himself back, but was losing ground fast.

Miranda saw Eric's predicament and immediately rushed over to aid him, but she was a lone woman fighting against three or four zombies and knew that she was going to lose her newfound friend it she didn't get some assistance fast. The deep boom of a shotgun filled the air near her and she looked up to see Jake fire a round of buckshot into the face of another zombie who had latched onto the flashers of the squad car above them. He had saved her from certain doom down in the bar and hoped he could be of help again.

"Jake! Help me!" she screamed as she could feel Eric slipping away from her grasp.

Jake's head perked up as he was alerted by the woman's screams and looked over to see the young hotel worker fighting an uphill battle as she struggled to keep the zombies from pulling Eric underneath the squad car in front of them. That kid may have talked big for a man of his limited skill level in situations like this, but still nobody deserved to die the horrible death that awaited him. The career criminal quickly holstered his shotgun and ran over to assist the woman.

Eric grunted in further pain as Miranda and the zombies played a virtual tug of war trying to pull him to either side. He felt his ribs almost being crushed as the young woman had her arms wrapped around his upper torso as she tried to pull him back, however he could feel her grip loosening and grew pale at the thought of himself becoming a midnight snack. Suddenly, he felt a pair of stronger, masculine hands grab onto him and with a great heave, he could feel the grip of the undead breaking until finally their pale, decaying fingers held him no more.

Jake and Miranda fell backwards onto the pavement with Eric falling on top of them. The three of them had to stop and catch their breath for a moment before they returned to their feet and the young woman handed him back his shotgun.

"You okay, kid?" Jake asked, shouting to be heard above the moans and gunfire.

"I'm fine." Eric replied and then looked over to Jake with an uncertain gaze, unable to believe that he had just been saved by the same man who had seemingly almost killed him back in the bar staff room. "Thank you."

"No problem, red." the other man said cracking an uncharacteristic smile, which would quickly return to his typical look of grim aggression, "Get back!"

The two young people fell back as a zombie had managed to climb all the way over the patrol car in front of them and then fell to the ground with a sick thud, only to die a second later as Jake withdrew his shotgun in lightning-quick fashion and emptied a round into the side of the creature's head.

Another thud was heard and yet another zombie had climbed over the patrol car and fell to the ground, followed by a wet sound.

CHUK!!!

Jake turned to find Cindy standing over the zombie with her spear impaled in the back of the creature's head.

"Damn woman, I didn't know you had it in you." he scoffed as he watched her brace her foot on the the creature's back and struggle to pull it out.

"Eh, all in a day's work." she replied brushing her ponytail aside. The shatter of a windshield sending her racing back behind the lines.

The remaining zombies had reached the barricade and struggled to crawl across the hoods of the vehicles blocking their path. The desperate survivors continued firing into the decaying masses raining shells and bullet casings down upon the pavement beneath them.

One of the zombies performed a baseball slide across the nearest hood, only to be incinerated by a wall of fire from David's mini-flamethrower, "Freak!" the plumber grumbled.

A small group of zombies had piled on top of one another and were slowly climbing across the hoods, but were quickly held back by repeated shotgun blasts from Officer Raymond, "They're still coming! You have to move that other police car further down the street!" he cried pointing beyond the approaching zombies. The older officer then fired additional blasts into two approaching zombies, knocking them down, but not killing them. "A few of you are going to have to go move that car! The rest of us can hold off these remaining freaks!" he shouted decapitating another zombie with a point blank round to the face.

Hearing the officer's words, Alyssa immediately made a mad dash towards the squad cars and quickly climbed over and ran in the direction of the second set of cars.

"Alyssa, no!" George cried, knowing the woman was unarmed. He immediately climbed over the patrol car barricade and ran after her, followed closely by David and then Jake.

By the time the three men had climbed over the barricade and made their way past the stacked up corpses, the reporter had already made her way over to the second set of patrol cars and was already pushing one of them when the doctor reached her and helped her push the car further, however the zombies were still coming and there were more of them, not to mention a few still living zombies who had been pressing against the first barricade and had now diverted their attention to their human targets who had leapt the barricade.

Jake stood with his shotgun raised as the zombies still approached him. There were three of them this time all coming at him from the front. The career criminal was still human and thus could easily outsmart them as well as outrun them. He looked over to David the plumber, who still had his makeshift flame-thrower out and was torching two zombies that hobbled towards him, making both of them convulse before finally falling to the ground dead. George had temporarily stopped pushing the patrol car to fire a bullet into the face of a zombie that had bypassed the second set of cars and set its sights on him.

Seeing that the zombies were still moving in on him and knowing deep down that these freaks would probably be pushovers, the career criminal decided to save some ammo and holstered his shotgun and then withdrew his combat knife from his shin holster.

"Come on you rat bastards." Jake growled as he dared the undead monsters to attack him.

The first zombie brought its hand up and tried to slash at the criminal, who quickly dodged the attack and got behind the monster and plunged his blade into the zombie's back, pulling it out and then spinning the creature around and jabbing it into its rotting eye socket, killing it with a snuff film style execution. (A/N: Reference based on "Manhunt").

The second zombie charged at him and tried to grab him with both hands, only to have Jake sidestep him and kick the creature in the lower back, dropping it to its knees and then delivered the finishing blow, driving the large blade into the monster's skull.

The third zombie staggered defiantly towards its intended prey, not at all fazed by the two recent kills the human had scored on its "brothers."

Jake quickly spun around and brought his foot up to perform the same kind of spinning back kick he had used up on the rooftop to break down the welded gate. The force of the kick knocked the zombie backwards but not off its feet. The young criminal followed up with a side kick to the beast's stomach and then a powerful uppercut that shattered its jaw. Weakening the creature with his previous attacks, Jake clamped both of his powerful hands on the sides of the zombie's head and with a quick motion snapped the creature's neck.

By the time he had killed the three zombies, the other survivors had moved the police car into place, assuring that the additional zombies would have a harder time getting through. Looking over to his right, Jake spotted the corpse of a police officer's throat who had been torn out. He ran over and searched the man's corpse, finding a Beretta 9mm. handgun and full handgun magazine. As if on cue, the window of a nearby building smashed and a zombie immediately lunged for the investigative reporter.

Alyssa let out a horrified scream as the zombie of a bloody nude woman staggered towards her with arms outstretched. She quickly looked over her shoulder to see Jake standing there with an additional gun in hand. "Take it!" he cried as he tossed the gun to her.

The young woman quickly caught the gun and turned around the face her assailant, firing three shots into the dead woman's face, sending her falling to the ground with blood gushing out of each wound like a fountain. She didn't get back up.

Alyssa found herself panting heavily from the recent exchange and buckled over with her hands on her knees. She continued until she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder and turned around to see Jake standing there presenting her with an extra magazine, "You might need this." he spoke in an almost robotic tone.

She hesitated before she spoke, giving him a timid "thank you." She was then approached by George and David, the latter of whom was carrying a handgun he had found on the corpse of another officer and a shotgun he had found in the trunk of the patrol car positioned near the building, which he would offer to the good doctor.

At the back of the street, Officer Raymond fought frantically to open the set of ancient-looking double doors, "Oh god, they're getting closer! We have to go!"

Jake looked back to see that more zombies were approaching the second barricade, and this time there were twice as many as the amount that had attacked the first barricade. He paid no heed to the three other survivors who had immediately started back towards the first barricade and were making their way out for the double doors that had just been opened.

He already hated these things, these "zombies" or whatever you wanted to call them. They were bothersome nuisances that stood in the way of him completing his mission and he couldn't decide whether he wanted to kill them to do a favor for the person they once were, or to eliminate them out of sheer frustration, either way they could not be dealt with peacefully and had to be killed off, every last one of them.

"Jake! Are you coming or not?" Kevin called out as he was about to run through the set of double doors. For now Jake would have to forget about this and move on.

In the adjacent trash-filled alley, Officer Raymond immediately ran towards another set of medieval looking double doors and raised his shotgun, "Stand back!" he ordered. He fired a round of buckshot into the large double doors, only slightly splintering the heavy wood. "Damn!" he grunted as he turned around to address the survivors. "Look, this is going to take a while. Hold those damned things off while I open this thing!" he ordered as he saw that zombies from the previous street had appeared crawling through small ducts towards their intended prey.

"Hurry up, we don't have all night!" Kevin screamed as he took a position near the older officer with his Colt .45 raised at eye level. Eric and George, who both also carried shotguns, took up defensive positions on both sides of the door far enough where they wouldn't be hit by any flying fragments.

Alyssa had found a can of first-aid spray and took a defensive position near an old empty crate with Miranda, Yoko, and Cindy all taking positions near empty oil drums with weapons ready. David, Mark, and Jake all stood out in the open with weapons raised, while Jim continued to run around screaming like a teenage girl in a B horror flick, "They're still coming! Oh god my life is shit!"

The zombies crawled through small ducts at the sides of the double doors the survivors had just entered through and were slowly rising to their feet with rotting arms outstretched. They truly had become a thorn in the side of the survivors and were starting to become more annoying than they were terrifying. Fortunately though, their numbers weren't as great this time, but still hungry zombies were not to be underestimated and could disrupt further progress if not dealt with immediately.

"Raymond come on, we won't be able to hold these things off for long!" Mark called out as he stepped back firing two shots into an advancing zombie.

"I'm trying dammit!" Raymond called out firing another shot into the large wooden frame. The veteran officer went to fire another shot, but much to his horror would hear another sound he definitely did not want to.

CLICK!

"Oh shit! Why now of all times?" he grumbled aloud trying not to panic as he reached into his pockets clambering for any additional shells he might be carrying. He let out a loud sigh of relief as he felt the cool steel of the shells in his pocket and then began jamming them into the chamber as fast as he could.

KA-BOOM!!!

The zombie fell backwards with a large gaping hole in the center of its head that had been completely obliterated by a well placed round of buckshot.

"Mindless freak..." Jake muttered ejecting the spent casing from his shotgun. The career criminal found himself being approached by another zombie, this one in a bloody sanitation worker's uniform with a broken leg he dragged about as it made its way towards the criminal.

Without a word, Jake squeezed the trigger and fired a point blank round into the zombie's torso, disemboweling it upon impact. The zombie's upper body fell to the ground with a wet splat, only to let out a powerful roar and rise up a second later as it continued to crawl towards the criminal looking up at him with its glossed over eyes, leaving a trail of innards behind as it advanced.

"Man, you truly are desperate." he remarked as the zombie's fingers were just inches away from grabbing his foot. Without a second thought, Jake raised his foot into the air and brought it down onto the former sanitation worker's head, squashing it like a watermelon and leaving a large footprint in the slime that was once the creature's brain.

"Come on, just a little closer." David said to himself as a small group of zombies gathered in front ready to swarm him, but the crafty plumber had other plans. As soon as they had gathered no less than two feet in front of him, he quickly drew his crude flamethrower and let loose a volley of flames, rapidly engulfing the rotting mass that stood before him.

"Ah, damn!" he gagged as his nostrils were filled with the overwhelming stench of burning flesh, causing him to fall back and clench his eyes shut, wanting to vomit.

Big mistake.

He cried out as he felt a powerful pair of cold, dead hands grip onto his shoulders and opened his eyes to see that a zombie about his height with almost no skin left on his face had stepped through the flames and had latched onto him.

"Shit! Help!" he shouted in his raspy tone, something very rare for he was a man used to doing things himself, but right now this beast was inching its chipped teeth closer and he nearly found himself gagging again as he could feel the beast's pungent breath on his face.

Miranda leapt forward and raised her gun to fire, only to be stopped by Mark, "No! You'll hit David!"

"But that thing's going to bite him!" she protested until Kevin also ran up to prevent her from firing and possibly wounding their comrade.

"Ahhh!!!" David grunted as he found himself on the ground wrestling with the ravenous beast. The thing had been incredibly strong for a rotting corpse but he hoped that he would be able to raise the creature enough to punch it in the face and temporarily stun it so he could withdraw a weapon and finish it off and had been partially successful, grunting with exertion as he had the zombie's face at arms length and had placed a hand under the cannibal's chin to prop its face up. With a war cry, he drove his fist into the creature's jaw knocking it off to the side.

"Now you fucking die!!!" he screamed reaching for his folding knife and in a furious rage proceeded to stab the walking cadaver repeatedly until it spasmed and was left in a wide pool of its own blood. He didn't stop though and continued hacking away until he felt a hand grip his wrist while he held the blade above his head.

"Enough, it's dead!" Alyssa tried to say as calmly as she possibly could, "Come on, you're being no better than this monster when you act like that. Let it go," she tried speaking in a soothing manner as she helped the man up, hoping he would turn on her and do the same.

David simply looked into the reporter's eyes and with a quick nod pulled out his pistol and walked towards the double doors where Officer Raymond had fired yet another round of buckshot into the massive doors.

The loud cracks of the small handguns and deep booms of the shotguns still filled the air as the survivors fought to hold down their small entrenchment from the advancing hordes forcing them to shout over the sounds of gunfire and undead moans, but there was one unmistakable sound that could be heard above everything.

"Come on god dammit!" Officer Raymond cursed for the hundredth time as he chambered another round into his SPAS-12 and took a quick peek over his shoulder to see that the other survivors were holding off remarkably well against the oncoming cannibals. "Please let this work," he said to himself, realizing that he was slowly running out of ammo. With a deep breath, he fired his shotgun one last time.

KRAA-AAKKK!!!

The two gigantic wooden doors had finally splintered open with a deafening crack, it had finally worked. The veteran officer felt a temporary sense of elation at what he had just accomplished, but it was short-lived for he still had a job to do. He still had to get these survivors to safety and fast.

"Come on! We have to go now!" he cried as he kicked the doors open and then waved his hand for the survivors to run through.

"Fuck these freaks! Let's move!" Kevin called out emptying what was left of his latest .45 clip into the head of an oncoming zombie.

The survivors began falling back towards the newly opened double doors still firing at the relentless zombies who had also begun to pound on the large double doors they had entered through.

KA-BOOM!!!  
  
Another zombie was sent flying backwards after taking a shotgun blast to the sternum courtesy of Jake, who would then fire a shot into another's face before his gun clicked empty.

"Dammit!" he grumbled to himself knowing that he would be forced to retreat, but at the moment he didn't have any other choice. His ammunition would run out soon and these things would soon overpower and eat him. Mentally kicking himself, the career criminal sighed in defeat and retreated with the others.


	5. Chapter 4: Things Go Boom In The Night

Darkness Arises by E-Z B

Author's Note: Well I've finally got this chapter up once and for all! I had the first portion of this chapter typed out, but then something called "samurai binary" according to Lyrix of Azn Ethix came along and fucked everything up, so I had to completely restart this from scratch and now here I finally am. Please read and review when you get the chance.

Chapter 4: Things Go Boom In The Night

They had him surrounded.

Officer Raymond Granberg stood still in horror as a horde of ravenous zombies flanked him from all sides with decaying limbs outstretched hoping to tackle him to the ground and eat him alive. He had dropped his guard. As soon as he blew the large set of double doors open the zombies emerged from the shadows and now had him surrounded. The veteran officer had been seeing these creatures around for hours now and still had not become used to the dead stare that came from their glossed over eyes. He wanted to scream at these freaks to back off, but he knew from experience that these monsters could not listen to reason and would attack without remorse. He had been so preoccupied with getting the survivors to safety that he forgot about his very own. He then suddenly remembered.

The survivors!

Through the mass of rotting flesh Raymond spotted Kevin and the other survivors gathered near the canal all staring nervously at what was going on.

"Raymond! Come on you've got to get out of here now!" Kevin shouted to his friend.

"Kevin Ryman," the veteran said to himself. He remembered the young officer well. He had been there when Officer Ryman first started out with the Raccoon Police Department ten years ago. Back then, he was nothing more than a fresh faced rookie straight out of the police academy and ready to get to work busting heads. He was an exceptional athlete and an excellent shot, but he was also brash, reckless and very arrogant, coming from a strong law enforcement family with a father, older brothers, uncle, and grandfather who were all exceptional officers and thus he was led to believe that he too would automatically become a great officer because of his family's background. It would take a near-fatal incident in order to finally shape up the cocky young officer.

Only months after joining the force, young Kevin Ryman had been called to provide backup down at the First Municipal Bank of Raccoon, where a full-scale robbery was in progress. The suspects were heavily armed and deeply entrenched with several hostages already taken. The uniformed officers had them trapped and the S.W.A.T. team was ready to enter. Seeing a chance to make a name for himself, Kevin foolishly rushed two armed suspects who had a teller held nearby. Pulling out his customized Colt .45 automatic, the young officer opened fire, killing one of the suspects right away. The second gunman was not as easily defeated as his partner and opened fire before falling over dead, striking the rookie officer several times.

Despite his foolish heroics, Kevin's attack opened the door for the S.W.A.T. team to enter and deal with the rest of the gunmen. Kevin Ryman was seriously injured in the attack and at one point was hovering close to near death. Fortunately for him, fate was on his side and he ended up making a full recovery. The attack also showed him the important value of his life and taught him that he could not be so reckless, especially when innocent lives were at stake.

Over the years Kevin Ryman had matured into a noble, trustworthy officer who was highly respected by his co-workers for his strong sense of justice and dyed-in-the-wool optimism and well-known amongst the community for his tireless efforts to keep the good people safe. He truly had come a long way since then and now he could really be considered impressive with the way he was fighting to get these survivors to safety.

Raymond then stood back and thought about his own family. He thought about his wife Clara and how she had been so beautiful in her younger years and then his two children Bruce and Anna. He took great solace in the fact that they were not in the city right now. He had sent them out of town to stay with relatives when the first string of murders began to occur. It also pained him greatly knowing that right now his life was probably at its end and that he would never see his family again, as would many other people. He had to fight back tears knowing that it would do him no good to sit back and weep over his loss. He then looked at the zombies approaching him and knew that he was going to die, but if he was going to go down, then he'd have to go down fighting and take down as many of these pricks as he possibly could before they could ruin other people's lives.

Snapping out of his trance he pumped his Franchi SPAS-12 pump-action shotgun and aimed for his first target, "Come get me you sick rotting bastards!" he growled and with it pulled the trigger.

A loud boom echoed above all the moans as the officer fired a point blank round into one of the zombies' stomachs, sending it flying backwards onto the pavement beneath it. Quickly pumping the shotgun he fired another round into another approaching monstrosity, obliterating two-thirds of its head and then quickly fired into an elderly zombie, blowing a large hole where its face should have been. With an exhausted grunt he fired his gun again, knocking another zombie backwards. He suddenly remembered the survivors again and turned to face Kevin.

"Raymond, forget about them! We have to go now or they'll kill us all!" Kevin shouted withdrawing his Colt .45 and raising it to eye level to fire until he was stopped by George.

"Don't, you'll hit Raymond!" the doctor intervened prompting Mark and David to hold him back as well.

"Let me go," Kevin protested, "I have to help him! He's a fellow officer!"

Raymond saw how the younger officer fought to try and help him and it made him briefly feel good inside to know that he had touched the younger man enough to the point where he would try to save him, but he knew the man's efforts would be in vain and that he would surely get himself killed as well.

"Look, you should go now! Get the survivors to safety Kevin, don't worry about me! My life is over, just worry about them!" Raymond called out after he blasted another zombie, but was then stopped as he suddenly recognized the fuel tanker that had been parked in the alley. However, it was this lapse in concentration that would greatly cost him.

A relentless zombie tackled the veteran officer from behind forcing him down to the cool concrete.

"Ahh!" Raymond cried as he struggled with the decaying cadaver while at the same time trying not to cave in to its foul breath. "Get away you bastard!" he grunted as he used his remaining strength to force the zombie's face upward hoping to create enough space where he could call out.

"There's a fuel tank! Unleash the gas and use it to burn these bastards...AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!!!"

The zombie wrestling with Raymond finally sunk its teeth into the officer's neck as he called out to the survivors, forever silencing his screams. As the officer died he laid his silver lighter in front of him.

"RAYMOND!!!" Kevin cried in rage raising his handgun and firing it in the direction of the zombies, immediately dropping one. "Die you rotting fucking freaks!" he cried trying to rush over into the direction of the zombies as they knelt down and began to feast on the older officer's remains.

"Kevin get a hold of yourself!" Mark called out as he fought to restrain the young officer. George, David, and Eric all struggled to hold the officer back fearing for his safety. Kevin grunted and cursed profusely as the four men tried their best to restrain him, but his drive to avenge his fallen comrade was too strong and he didn't plan on leaving without exacting some revenge first.

Jake stood impassively to the side as he watched the other men struggle to hold back the raging police officer. The women stood by also shouting at Kevin to forget about Officer Granberg and to come on before the zombies got a hold of him and ate him alive. Jim as usual stood off to the side forcing himself to look away from the horrible feast that took place before them.

He totally understood the officer's fury at what had just occurred, he himself had to be held back once when a corrupt police officer savagely murdered one of his close friends after a high-scale casino robbery a few years back. He had seen the look on a few officers' faces after he had been sentenced for the murders of those two officers at that botched bank robbery attempt. They all wanted him dead just as this officer wanted those zombies dead for murdering his colleague. Desensitized to the violence before him, Jake scanned the atrocity taking place and the surrounding area when he spotted a glimmering silvery object lying amongst the mass of torn flesh and blood that immediately caught his attention.

A lighter!

The career criminal recalled what the officer had said and quickly plotted out a strategy he would use. He looked over and saw that the other men were still fighting to hold back Kevin and then looked back to Jim and the ladies. Jim was worthless and would not be needed right away and Cindy was too poorly armed to be of any major assistance at the moment. Yoko was also poorly armed, but she was still quicker on her feet and could be of potential use. Alyssa and Miranda both carried firearms. Miranda did not appear to have much experience wielding one, but Alyssa appeared to be adept with a small sidearm and could provide some useful backup in his plan he was about to hatch.

He looked down to the college student whom he dwarfed by an entire foot, "Yoko, get ready. I have an idea," he shouted to the young woman who shot a confused stare back. "When I tell you to, run over to the fuel tanker and release the gas onto the street. I'm going to try and grab that officer's lighter and I'm gonna need you to release the gas for me. Got it?"

Yoko wore the same confused expression on her face thinking to herself was this man crazy or not to do such a thing? She could tell by the mysterious man's determined stare that he was serious about doing this and wondered why he would pick her of all people, knowing herself that she was too poorly armed to fight back if the zombies decided to attack her and with her small size she could easily be overwhelmed. At the same time though, she felt a small surge of confidence because she had watched Jake handle small groups of zombies all by himself with little or no problem and felt some hope that he could possibly take all the creatures by himself. She returned a slow, nervous nod.

Jake then looked over to Alyssa, who had been listening in, "Alyssa, you seem to be a pretty good shot. I might need you to back me up on this one too. When I tell you, keep a safe distance and cover me. Shoot any of those fuckers that get past me to the others," he ordered preparing his shotgun. Alyssa returned a silent nod and readied her pistol.

Raising his shotgun, Jake fired a shell into the back of one of the zombies at the back of the group and dropped it leaving it to crawl on the ground. He then fired another round into the face of a zombie that had turned to look at him and then looked over his shoulder to Alyssa, "Now!"

Chambering another shell Jake quickly then squeezed the trigger and nailed another zombie in the chest, sending it flying backwards onto the concrete with enough force to crack its skull open. He then pumped the gun and fired another round blowing another creature's head clean off. Before he could fire on another, a single gunshot rang out and the zombie he targeted fell dead before him. He looked back to see Alyssa with smoking gun in hand and gave her a quick wink. The criminal returned his attention to the zombies and splattered another's brains all over its companions.

Looking down Jake could see that he was just mere inches away from the silver lighter but several zombies were also in front of him. Knowing he was low on shotgun shells and didn't have time to reload he quickly holstered the weapon and went into a Karate fighting stance.

"Time for you freaks to meet your maker," he smirked at the zombies approaching him. A small crowd surrounded the career criminal, but he was not afraid. He forgot how to fear long ago. He stared up the competition, "Who's first?"

A medium sized zombie staggered towards Jake ready to move in for its next kill. He studied the monster thoroughly who appeared to wear a security guard uniform similar to that worn by Mark and his face was slowly caving in. Jake bent backward to avoid an attempted slash from the zombie and then delivered a powerful low kick to the monster's leg that shattered its knee cap and then brought his heel down, performing a devastating axe kick that split the freak's skull down the middle.

"Don't blame me freak, I just did you a favor," Jake spat shaking the brain matter from his shoe and then saw a larger zombie approaching him, this one even taller than him and a lot fatter dressed like a white trash farmer. The zombie lunged at him with the speed of a man half his size and attempted to catch the criminal in a bearhug, but Jake was much quicker and rolled underneath the former human's ice cold death grip and quickly kipped back up to his feet, performing a backward roundabout kick to the zombie's lower back, shattering its spine upon impact. He then spun around performing another backward roundabout kick, this time to the back of the zombie's head.

Jake looked down and saw that the lighter laid right in front of him and he could pick it up at any time he wanted to, but there were still too many zombies around to afford that kind of lapse in concentration. Two more zombies dropped dead nearby and he saw that Alyssa was handling herself remarkably well against the creatures. More gunshots rang out that sounded like they were coming from a different type of gun and two additional zombies dropped dead. He looked back to the crowd to see Kevin standing there firing potshots into the crowd. David and Mark joined in dropping the zombies at a more rapid pace, buying enough time for the career criminal to complete his objective.

With the zombies safely at a greater distance, Jake reached down and swiped the silver lighter that lay inches from Officer Raymond's outstretched hand. He also found the man's shotgun nearby and picked it up and inspected it to see that it still held four shells. He looked over to Kevin again who lowered his gun seeing that he had completed his objective, Jake nodded towards him and tossed him the shotgun, "Here!"

The lighter was now in his possession and him and Alyssa both ran back to join the rest of the group which still waited nervously at the edge of the canal. "Yoko now!" he shouted to the young woman who had already stood near the tanker when he had cleared out most of the zombies.

Yoko nodded and without a word gripped the heavy valve handle tightly and with an exhausted grunt turned the handle as quickly as she could with all of her might and turned it until gasoline shot onto the street, drenching every single inch from there to the entrance.

"Come on people, let's get moving! We'll have to escape through this canal!" Kevin called out as he attempted to shepherd the survivors from the dangerous street and then looked beyond them to see Jake standing near the gas leak staring intently at the zombies.

"Jake, forget about them! We have to get out of here now!"

Kevin's cries meant nothing to Jake. He stood there and pulled out the lighter ready to finish these monsters off once and for all. "Kevin, get the others out of here now!"

"But..."

"Do it," Jake ordered returning his attention to the zombies, "Wait for me nearby. If I'm not back within a half an hour, leave!"

Kevin didn't know what to think. He was an officer of the law and he was used to being in the position of authority when dealing with civilians and it was his job to serve and protect the innocent. This Jake character appeared to be a skilled enough fighter when it came to battling the raging hordes of undead, but still he was an innocent bystander who should not be kept out on the frontline during a battle of this magnitude, especially one that he had no idea the size of. He was torn between his duty and his faith in another man's ability. Silently he nodded and approached the edge of the canal where David had just dove in and Miranda was up next in line. He looked back to the man and wished him the best of luck.

"Good luck, kid!" Mark called out before diving into the canal. He was the last of the others to leave.

Great, the other survivors were out of the way and now Jake could finally do to these monsters what he had been waiting for. He pulled out the lighter.

"All right you freaks, I see that you have already been touched by the icy cold hand of death," he clicked the lighter on and stared intently at the small dancing flame, "now I will introduce you to the raging flames of Hell!" He tossed the lighter into the gas leak.

The lighter clattered loudly against the drenched concrete and in less than a second flames arose from the substance and rushed towards the zombies who continued their mindless march. The hissing of flames connecting with skin resounded loudly as the undead struggled forth oblivious to the fire that was slowly consuming them and they continued forth until they eventually fell and were reduced to ashes.

"What a rush..." Jake commented as he wiped some sweat from his forehead. His victory was short-lived as the flames began to spread and would soon envelop the fuel tanker he stood near.

"Oh shit..." he blurted out as he began to rush for the safety of the nearby stream. The criminal ran as fast as he could and dove into the air, time seemingly slowing down around him as the flames completely engulfed the tanker and blew it to kingdom come.

KA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!

A thunderous explosion was heard in the distance.

"Oh god...Jake!" Miranda cried and suddenly found herself feeling weak in the knees. Thankfully Eric was there to catch her.

The other survivors remained silent and looked worriedly at each other fearing for the safety of their comrade.

"Dear lord..." Cindy trailed, "Do you think he's..." she struggled to hold back tears when she was about to finish her sentence. Kevin saw this and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Don't think about that. I haven't known this Jake fellow long, but he seems like a tough guy who's too smart and damned stubborn to be done in by a couple rotting asses we saw back there. Let's just hope for his sake that he made it out all right."

"Should we sit here and wait for him then?" George cut in, prompting a few worried stares as others did not want to be kept waiting in one area for too long.

"Yes, we wait for a half an hour," Kevin said looking down to his watch, "If he doesn't come back by then...We move on."

"What?!?" Jim squawked, "You're telling us to just sit here and wait out on the dangerous streets with those rotting freaks running around? What the hell is wrong with you? Those things are going to sniff us out and kill us! We can't just sit here and wait! You're basically telling us to sit here and wait for those things to come out and eat us alive! It's suicide!" the frightened subway attendant bellowed, arousing annoyed glances and shaken heads from the others present.

"Those things are surely going to track us down and find us here if you don't shut your frickin' mouth!" David growled, forcing the younger man to cringe in fear.

"Yeah, I swear running around with you is like running around with a damn siren strapped to your head," Eric added, inviting some snickers from those in attendance.

"I agree and if they do find us we're feeding Jim to them first!" Alyssa jumped in.

"Hey, hey easy, easy people! If we're going to make it out of this mess alive we're going to have to keep everybody alive and we need to cooperate, a mutiny is the last thing we need in a situation like this," Mark called out acting as the voice of reason, "We sit here and wait for now. Jake is bound to show up at any second and if he's not back in a half an hour we leave. Besides, I'm sure a lot of people here probably need some rest anyway. I don't know about you, but my dogs are barking!"

After some initial exasperation, the survivors begrudgingly agreed to stay and wait for their lost comrade. The sewer path they had taken led them to Thompson St. directly in front of the Apple Inn Hotel which had now looked like a tornado had just torn through. Several cars had been involved in a small pile up and a stoplight had been knocked over. A taxi had been parked hastily near the hotel entrance and upon further inspection it could be seen that blood had covered the inner seats, suggesting that the driver must have been attacked and attempted to flee. The combination stench of smoke from nearby wrecks and decay hung high in the air and the ominous cawing of crows could be heard in the distance for once replacing the guttural moans of nearby zombies. Another element would stand out and catch everybody's attention.

More survivors!

Two men sat near the gates of an old brownstone building and appeared to be in fine physical condition, a small miracle unto itself. The first man stood staring blankly at the world in front of him. He had short red hair and a beard and mustache and wore a red and black plaid shirt and black jeans. The second man sat in front of the gate looking down. He had short brown hair and wore a blue shirt and gray pants. George immediately ran over to greet the two survivors.

"Hello there, my name is George Hamilton. I'm a doctor. Has either one of you been bitten or scratched by any of those beings wandering around on the streets?"

The bearded man looked to the good doctor with eyes dulled by pain and spoke, "I was just coming home from work and those things attacked me from out of nowhere. I feel like I'm stuck in the middle of a god awful B-movie. Please, just get me out of here alive..." he trailed off.

The seated man then spoke, "My wife Margaret, I don't think I'll ever be able to go home to her ever again..." Both men were obviously dazed by what had been going on around them and needed to get some kind of psychiatric counseling once this whole ordeal was over with.

A metal door opened from a nearby building and out stepped a balding middle-aged man dressed in a police officer's uniform with megaphone in hand.

"Attention, this is the Raccoon City Police Department! Any survivors are to report to this area immediately. We have vans prepared that are waiting to take you to safety. You have approximately five minutes to reach this checkpoint at once or we will be forced to proceed without you."

Kevin saw that the man was a fellow R.P.D. officer and immediately ran up to him.

"Dorian!" he called out running up to the man and shaking his hand.

"Kevin, thank god you're still alive," he said returning the handshake, "This entire city is becoming a damned warzone and we've already lost quite a few good men out there, not to mention that we barely have enough able-bodied officers back at the station to hold down the fort. On top of that, we've got civilians coming to us from all over the city and we don't have enough officers or supplies to protect them with. Fat Boy Irons took it upon himself to re-arrange the ammo caches around the station and now we can't find jack shit and our boys are getting slaughtered left and right. We've also received news of several fires burning around the city and the fire department can't get to them because of all the riots and Raccoon General is overcrowding with victims of this mysterious cannibal plague that's been running rampant around town. This place has gone to Hell in a handbasket in just a matter of hours."

"Damn," Kevin spat, "aren't we getting any help from the outside?"

"From what I've heard, the National Guard might be on its way, but it's hard to tell because the damn radios are out and we can barely contact our buddies out in the field," Dorian added with a heavy sigh.

"Fuck! We've gotta get these people to safety any way we can!" Kevin said motioning to the survivors who stood around behind him.

"Believe me," the older officer said eyeing the survivors, "we're doing everything we can. For now, we might have to keep them at the station and see if we can get any of them airlifted over to the airport. We're low on helicopters too at the moment."

"Great, just great!" Jim whined completely losing control of himself, "We're all going to die in this shithole and I haven't even had the chance to say goodbye to my mama and little Kyra yet! Oh god my life is shit!"

"Jesus, for the millionth time get a hold of yourself!" Mark bellowed slapping himself in the head at Jim's cowardice.

A loud clank suddenly came from nearby followed by another and then another.

"That's coming from the sewers!" Eric called out rushing towards the manhole with shotgun ready followed closely by George, Alyssa, and Miranda. The four of them approached the open manhole and readied their weapons expecting either their missing friend or something worse to appear before them.

"Jake, is that you?" Miranda called out, hoping for it to be the man who had already saved her twice tonight.

For several seconds there was no reply until an exhausted grunt was heard and from out of the murky darkness a gloved handed reached out and grabbed the concrete before them followed by Jake sticking his head out. He was covered in filth but very much alive and didn't appear to be seriously injured.

"Ugh, yeah it's me all right. I burnt all those bastards for you guys. They won't be following us again anytime soon." With a final heave he pulled himself onto the street and pushed himself back to his feet and then walked over to join the others who remained gathered near Dorian.

"Okay is this everybody then? Come with me please."

"Dammit Jake, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?"

Jake sat at the very back of the crowded police van for once questioning his own motives for getting involved in a mission. This was supposed to be a simple assassination he told himself. Not to sound like he was brooding over his decision or anything, but he seriously thought all he would have to do is track down some lone scientist and take him out. It should have been as simple as that, but unfortunately for the young career criminal fate had something else in mind.

Being a mercenary hitman of his caliber, naturally Jake found himself in high demand within the criminal underworld and in the past he had been recruited to eliminate several high-level targets ranging from rival mob bosses to unrelenting politicians to snitches who knew too much and he had completed all of his missions with lethal accuracy and he always made sure to prepare himself to the lowest details to ensure that he would never be caught off guard. Snuffing out a scientist working for a multi-national pharmaceutical company was something new to him, but he always liked a new challenge and the money he was promised at the end suggested that this individual was of general significance to the Umbrella Corporation. However, he had not expected to find himself thrust into the middle of an invasion of the undead.

All his life Jake had been a fighter. He has always had to find himself fighting off new waves of foes, starting with the bullies at school and his own abusive, alcoholic father, and then graduated to the police and rival gangs. From an early age he has trained himself to be a formidable hand-to-hand fighter in addition to his expertise with all forms of weapons and could easily take down several rival gang members within a matter of minutes, but fighting with the reanimated corpses of once ordinary citizens was a different story altogether. Sure he had managed to handle himself very well so far, but at the same time he had to remind himself that these monsters could feel no pain and would keep coming until he was able to find some way to incapacitate them for good. These creatures could be outsmarted and outmaneuvered very easily and could easily be dispatched of with simple head shots, but they were dangerous in large packs and it would only be a matter of time before he would become exhausted and if he could not find shelter immediately they would overwhelm him and systematically devour him.

The odds were stacked against him a million to one, but that's exactly how Jake liked it. He was at his most dangerous when his back was pinned against the wall and knowing of the elevated risks seemed to sharpen his skills and make him focus to the top of his game to help him prevail in the end. All he knew for sure right now was that whoever the bastard was who put him up to this had better pay him the ten million dollars he promised up front and in full or else he would kill that man where he stood. If this mysterious benefactor was sincere in his offer then Jake would have to find some way to make sure that the ten million dollars he was putting his life on the line for right now would be worth it, but he highly doubted that he would retire afterwards like most people would as the urge for battle and adventure burned within the young man and he would die fighting if he had to.

Jake let out a heavy sigh and then looked around the small van and began to take in his surroundings. This wasn't the first time he had been in the back of a police van, but this time it was under different circumstances. The last time he had been in a van like this he was being transported to the Almondville Correctional Institution where he was to carry out a life sentence for the numerous murders he had been convicted of in that botched bank robbery attempt back in Carcer City. This time, the van was actually meant to protect him and the other survivors present as they were being guided through the dangerous streets and taken to the police station for further protection.

Like his last time riding in the back of a police van, the atmosphere was relatively quiet broken only by coughs and small whispers. The last time the inmates had been instructed by the guards that there was to be absolutely no communication amongst themselves, this time the silence was voluntary as it appeared that all of the people present had a lot to think to themselves, pondering whether or not they would make it out of this situation alive and possibly contemplating what they would do afterwards, also thinking about their family, friends, co-workers, and other loved ones they had outside of the city and if they would ever see them again or not.

Jake sat at the very back of the van near the double doors right next to George who had earlier tried to build up a small conversation with him, but snubbed him off. The doctor seemed like a decent human being and all, but he figured that there was no point in getting attached or acquainted with any of them because he would possibly grieve for them and vice versa. Besides, he was here to do a job, not make new friends. George had since turned his attention to Mark and Cindy who sat directly next to him. David sat directly next to them also refraining from getting better acquainted with the other survivors, as did Yoko who sat next to him, but she seemed too frightened to socialize and he didn't blame her. Eric and Miranda sat in the middle directly beneath a barred window that separated the driver's and front passenger seats from the back area where everybody else was seated. They chatted quietly amongst themselves, probably about trivial college student things and frankly he didn't care. 

There were times though when he often did think of what life would be like if he had not chosen to become a career criminal. He imagined that right now at his age he probably would have just been getting out of college and probably in a steady relationship with a pleasant young woman. Right now he was too far gone and if he wanted anything close to a normal life he probably would have to fake his own death and assume an entirely new identity, but with his intimidating appearance and conspicuous tattoos he knew it would be extremely hard to do so.

Across from him the other bench was crammed to the point where the other survivors were bumping each other with every movement of their arms and legs. Alyssa was wedged into the corner near the window leading to the driver's seat and nearly had her legs crushed by Eric's form. Jake could tell by the look on her face that she definitely did not like this position and wanted to shout at the people in front of and to her sides, but for the fact that they had all just been through Hell and back she chose not to. Jim sat right next to her clutching what appeared to be a lucky coin in hand muttering some kind of jibberish to himself about how he hoped his lucky coin would help him survive all the madness around him. That man truly was pathetic and he thought to himself that perhaps it would be better if they just fed Jim to the zombies. His cowardice and narrow-mindedness were seriously becoming a burden to the team and he felt it would probably be in the best interest of everybody else regardless of what they said about it. Next to Jim sat the two survivors from the streets who now gave their names as Ralph and Phil. Both men remained silent and would only look up to give blank, death-like stares which brought about great concern from the others present.

Kevin sat in the front passenger seat and could be heard conversing with Officer Dorian about their recent dilemma. Straining their ears he managed to eavesdrop on the tail end of the older officer's statement.

"...The highways are too dangerous for us to move on so we'll have to rely on the side streets to get around to the station." Dorian spoke to Kevin as he found himself forced to slow down a little so he could move past a two car wreck and then hit the gas again after spotting a lone zombie in the street.

Several minutes later the van rounded a corner and skidded to a halt, "Dammit! Another road block!" Dorian slid the screen aside and turned to the other survivors, "As you can see there are road blocks all over the city streets. If you want to go any farther you're going to have to proceed by foot." This news brought anguished groans from several occupants in the back.

"Don't worry about it, we appreciate the help we can get," Kevin said grabbing his shotgun and opening his door and hopping out. Dorian himself got out and then the back doors opened and one by one the survivors stepped out except for Jim who remained in his seat holding on to his lucky coin. "Come on Jim!"

"I-I-I don't want to continue on foot...It's scary!" he whined shaking nervously. Cindy stepped up trying to encourage him into continuing, "Sorry Jim, but we really don't have any other choice." The subway attendant still refused to budge.

"Damn this little pussy," Jake grumbled having seen enough. He walked up to the open doors and pounded his fist on the side wall causing the smaller man to jump, "Hey Screamin' Mimi, move your ass or I'll personally deliver you to the zombies myself!" Without a word Jim hopped up and joined the others on the streets.

Dorian stepped into the back of the van and unlocked the built-in weapons locker, which was stocked to the max with shotguns, a couple handguns, handgun ammo, magnum ammo, shotgun shells, and even a few cans of first aid spray manufactured by Umbrella, Inc. "Back at the station we knew there was a possibility that a situation like this would arise, so we made sure to stock this locker to the max with available guns and ammo that should last your entire group a good while. I'm sorry I couldn't help you more. Right now you're better off on your own and should go and try to find some way past this mess." He then turned his attention to Kevin, "Kevin, do whatever you can to get these people to safety. Gather up what other survivors and resources you can and try to make your way to the police station by any means necessary. There should also be fellow officers scattered around the area. Help them anyway you can before it's too late." Kevin nodded solemnly and proceeded to collect some rounds for his magnum revolver and Colt .45 and some shells for his shotgun.

The rest of the survivors proceeded to collect ammunition for their weapons. Jake was next up after Kevin, grabbing some spare clips for his Beretta 9mm. and some additional shotgun shells. So far he had not needed to use his S&W M629C, saving it for any possible stronger enemies. George followed him collecting spare clips and shells for his handgun and shotgun. David then entered grabbing some extra ammo for his handgun and one of the shotguns on the rack. Mark then entered and also grabbed some extra handgun ammo and a shotgun for his usage. Eric entered dangerously low on ammo for his shotgun and scooped up all the extra rounds he could and grabbed a Beretta 9mm. handgun along with some ammo. Miranda grabbed some additional clips for her gun and a shotgun for usage, leaving one left after it. Alyssa stepped up and grabbed the last shotgun and more ammo for her handgun. Cindy stepped in and grabbed a handgun to use as a last resort weapon and some ammo to go with it. She was not adept with the use of firearms and so far had managed to avoid using one all night, knowing that she would probably end up firing wildly and waste bullets in the process, besides she was not a fighter and was best kept behind frontlines to tend to any wounded. Yoko also grabbed a handgun knowing that she would probably have to sit in the background and act as backup for the others. This left Jim, who ended up grabbing a magnum revolver and any remaining rounds he could find for it.

"Make sure you know how to point that gun the right way, kid." Mark said giving the young subway attendant a hearty pat on the back.

Jake again shook his head at Jim. Frankly he didn't know what was scarier, a bunch of mindless blood-thirsty zombies or an unstable coward with a large revolver. For once he actually almost felt bad for Jim, thinking that he was only a greater danger to himself with a gun of that size and caliber in hand. It was weak stomached people like him who were the kind that would get knocked back by the recoil and possibly take out one of his own teammates, plus he would probably actually feel pangs of guilt for killing a zombie that was out to kill him for no apparent reason. If all else failed, he would probably put the gun to his own head rather than try to figure some way out of the whole mess.

Ralph and Phil both sat off to the side unarmed. "Ralph, Phil, come on we have to go now," Cindy said trying to encourage both of them to move on further but both men refused.

"How can they do this to us? They're the police! They're supposed to be protecting us! Now the expect us to walk through these streets on foot? It's suicide and I refuse to move any more!" Ralph roared getting in the face of Cindy and Kevin.

"Oh god, I'm next on the menu...Why must my life end like this?" Phil trailed off struggling to hold back tears as he sat in a corner rocking himself back and forth. Cindy ran over to him and tried to console him, but he curled into a fetal position and seemed to shut himself off from the world around him.

"Dorian, stay with these two and make sure nobody or nothing comes near them. The rest of us are going to look for help," Kevin told his fellow officer and then looked back to the others, "Let's get rockin', we don't have much time left!" he shouted and then jogged over to a small flight of stairs.

"Man piggy, I sure hope you know what you're doing," Jake said quietly as he let the others run along ahead of him. He held his reloaded shotgun in front of him and ran behind the group covering the rear. The group moved up the flight of stairs and through a back alley before they came to a foot bridge that expanded over Staunton St. Everybody suddenly halted and stared at the street below.

"What's going on?" Jake asked aloud, but was quickly silenced as he saw the carnage for himself, "This is bad..."

Harry Muntz was officially the most frightened he had ever been in his entire life. Instead of being home in the safety of his bed he was on Staunton St. being approached by what appeared to be hundreds if not thousands of mindless zombies held back by only a small steel fence who were looking to get at him and rip him into tiny strips. This was literally a nightmare come true for the young officer and he could barely function as he held a Beretta 9mm. in front of him with shaky hands. He wanted to pull the trigger and put one of those monsters out of its misery, but their ungodly moans kept frightening him beyond comprehension whenever he would get the urge to perform a seemingly simple function.

"Heavenly father, what did I ever do to deserve this?" he thought to himself as he tried his best not to stare any of those freaks directly into their cold, pupiless eyes fearing that doing so would only make things worse for him and his colleagues. He was supposed to be a simple desk officer assigned to shuffling through daily paperwork or getting coffee for his superiors. Sure they had been boring tasks before, but now he desperately missed them. He wanted some action in his dull daily existence, but this was asking for way too much.

"Jesus, I drop my guard for five seconds and now fate bends me over and fucks me in the ass!" he whined as he looked over to his colleagues, patrol officer Elliott Adler and demolitions specialist Eric Nordstrom, who both shuddered in disgust, "Man, we didn't just need to hear that!" Elliott shot towards the tubby officer quickly reloading his Beretta.

Elliott and Eric were two of the department's best and at first he thought he would feel safe at their side, but now he was seriously questioning not only his own aptitude, but theirs as well. Eric at the moment was working as fast as he could to arm a line of explosives that had been set up hastily by the city's S.W.A.T. team when the riots began to occur. Their goal had been to set up the explosives and then detonate them and destroy the large street and hopefully all of the zombies with it. He was trying his hardest to get things set up, but the breakneck pace he was forced to work at along with Elliot barking orders and the zombies breaking down the barricades at any possible second was seriously flustering him and making him forget things.

Elliott fired a round into one of the zombies and dropped it immediately. He fired two more random shots into the crowd, but failed to kill any this time. "Eric, what's taking so long?" he called out.

Eric again found himself distracted by Elliott's outburst, "I'm almost done, just a few more minutes!"

Harry stood off to the side still too frightened to fire his gun. He was not trained to deal with this kind of situation and neither were any other members of the department staff. He could only stand back and hope for some extra additional seconds before those zombies would finally break through the barricade. He let out a startled yelp when one of the sections was nearly knocked over, "Ahhh!!! Hurry! Quick!" he could only bark as he expected the worst.

"Hurry up!" Elliot shouted again firing more rounds into the crowd.

"Hold on," Eric cried twisting some more wires together, "Okay, there!" The detonator was finally set up and ready to go, but at a great cost.

CCCCCRRRRRAAAAAAAASSSSSHHHH!!!!

The zombies had knocked down the barricades and were now piling over each other anxious for their next meal.

"Eric, watch out!" Elliott cried, but it was too late.

Eric looked up from his work to find three zombies hovering above him ready to strike. It was the last thing he would ever see.

"Get away from him!" Elliott cried raising his gun, but he was too late. Before he could squeeze off a single round several zombies had already tackled him to the ground and began biting into him.

"Oh just great..." Harry whined. Elliott and Eric were dead and he was all alone. He grew pale and struggled to cry out for help as the zombies had turned their attention away from his dead comrades and now focused on him.

"What should I do?!?"

Kevin's blood began to boil at the sight of his own colleagues being slaughtered, but yet he managed to contain himself, "Come on! We have to help them!" and took off down the steps with his shotgun drawn.

"Wait up!" Mark cried pulling out his shotgun and running down to the street as fast as he could followed closely by the others. Jake rushed towards the middle of the group with shotgun ready and prepared to blow away any zombie that ventured into his cross-hairs. He was ready both physically and mentally for this fight.

Reaching the street below Kevin would immediately notice his co-worker, "Harry!" Kevin quickly ran over to the frightened officer who now stood pinned against a nearby fence looking like he was ready to faint until the cop's voice snapped him out of his trance.

"K-Kevin! Thank god you're still alive! Look, you've gotta help me here, we were trying to detonate explosives we set up in the sewers to burn these bastards, but they broke through and they killed Elliot and Eric! I would fight them myself, but...Oh god, I just don't have it in me!" the man whined nearly breaking into sobs, "Listen, you've got to get the pieces of the detonator. They should be scattered here somewhere on the street. Once you get them assembled you've gotta get over to the detonator kit by Eric's body. Please, just get these freaks cleared out!"

Kevin nodded and then spun around and wasted no time firing a shell into the face of a zombie that had lurched towards him. He looked around the street to see that several of the zombies present were just standing around but would probably spring to life once one of them got too close. Right now his adrenaline was pumping after seeing two of his colleagues be savagely murdered right before his very eyes and he wanted to see these freaks punished for their sin. "Chew on this, fucker!" he shouted giving one zombie yet another hole in his head and then blasted a female zombie's head clean off. He let out a mighty roar and began firing shell after shell into the crowd of undead unleashing frustration that had been pent up all night long.

Mark and George stood with their backs to each other and began firing round after round into any zombie that came within a five foot radius of them. While firing, a zombie had tried to sneak up on the doctor for a quick bite, but George spotted him and with some extra energy tackled the monstrosity to the ground and planted his foot on the freak's chest, "Let this be your funeral, monster!" and with those words fired a shell point blank into the zombie's face.

David ran alongside the duo and fired his gun repeatedly into the approaching zombies while he pulled out a lugwrench with the other and tossed it into the face of another nearby zombie, shattering its orbital bone before he ran up and gave it a swift kick to the neck, nearly snapping it clean off of the zombie's body. "Eat that you undead bastard!" he thought to himself.

Alyssa, Miranda, Cindy, and Yoko all stood near each other ganging up on a trio of zombies approaching them firing rounds wildly into the air as they fought desperately to take down the zombies before they reached them. "Stay down you fucking freak!" Miranda cried as she fired the remaining rounds of her clip into one of the zombies and found herself forced to reload. Yoko nearby wasn't faring much better and had fired a lethal shot to one of the approaching zombies, but its partner didn't go down as easily and quickly tackled the young woman to the ground.

"Help me!!!" she cried as the monster tore into her jacket and was just inches away from biting into her wrist. She struggled with the monster until she heard a loud "CHUK!"

She opened her eyes to see Cindy standing above her with her crude spear driven into the zombie's spinal cord. "Thank you so much!"

"Anytime!" Cindy smiled helping her up.

Eric stood with his feet planted firmly on the ground and his shotgun raised ready for combat. He stared at the zombies approaching him with pure hatred and determination. These rotting undead bastards were rapidly destroying the beautiful city he had spent his entire life in and had probably killed off half of his friends and family and if he died tonight he certainly wasn't going down without a little payback.

"All right you heartless fucking bastards," he growled pumping his shotgun, "You freaks have already caused to much pain and sorrow tonight and I'm going to send as many of you worthless pieces of shit back to the grave as I can!"

With his words of rage, Eric fired a round of buckshot into the face of a trucker zombie and then got up close and decapitated two zombies with one blast. Another zombie got close to the young college student, who responded by disemboweling him with a point blank blast to the torso, but the upper half still crawled after him letting out primordial moans.

"Shut up and die!!!" Eric roared bring his foot down and smashing the zombie's skull into the pavement. He quickly had to slow down as he could feel his rage getting the better of him and knew that if he became too angry he would certainly leave a lot of weak spots open and allow the zombies to reach him and devour him alive.

"Not tonight..." he spoke and blasted another zombie clean across the pavement. Through all the debris littering the ground he spotted something that was crucial to getting past these monsters. "The detonator handle!" Eric shouted aloud as he quickly scooped it up and noticed that Kevin stood near the officer's body and the rig kit.

A shotgun blast rang out and yet another zombie fell dead to the pavement. Jake pumped his shotgun and looked down upon the fresh corpses he had just laid out. He stood over them looking completely badass and showing no remorse, almost as if he was the Angel of Death himself. Deep down he almost felt sorry for these things, but at the same time to him they were obstacles that stood in the way of his mission success.

"Uuuuuuuunnnnngggggggggghhhhhh...."

Jake turned around to find another zombie rising to its feet ready to strike at the first thing it saw. A frown forming on his face, he brought the handle of his shotgun down onto the zombie's skull and snapped its neck.

"Go to Hell..." he grumbled to the fresh corpse. Looking beyond the dead bodies he saw a green cylindrical object of great importance, "The detonator main unit!" Swiping the object up he saw Kevin standing near the rig kit.

BLAM!!!

A gunshot went off behind Jake and he whirled around to find a zombie collapsing to the pavement with a gaping hole gushing sticky crimson fluids from its neck. Looking up he saw Jim standing before him with a smoking magnum revolver in hand, horrified by what he had just done. For once Jake actually smiled at him and threw him a thumbs up.

"Eh man, nice shooting. You actually did something useful for once. I didn't know you had it in you! Heh heh!" he chuckled towards the subway attendant, who stood there looking bewildered after killing something that had once been human.

Kevin stood near the rig kit that was located next to Eric's body and had now pulled out the magnum revolver and was blasting away at the remaining zombies. There were only a few left so he had decided to finish them off with the most powerful gun at his disposal. He could see that there were seemingly thousands more in front of them, but he was confident that they could get all of the explosives detonated before they got within distance. He quickly dropped two more zombies with shots from the magnum and then looked over his shoulder to see that Jake had grabbed the detonator main unit and then heard Eric call out and turned around to see that the young college student had found the detonator handle he would need to use.

"Eric, Jake! Toss me the detonator pieces now!" he called out to both men and then looked in front of him to see that another wave of zombies was getting dangerously close, "And somebody cover me too! I'm going to blow these fuckers to Hell now!"

Both men did not hesitate and quickly tossed them to the officer who caught both pieces and wasted no time assembling the detonator so it would be ready to be primed. Mark, George, David, Eric, and Jake all ran up behind Kevin and began laying waste to any zombies that came within a ten foot radius of the rig kit.

Kevin connected the detonator to the rig kit and raised the switch, "Get ready, here goes nothing!" He pushed down the handle.

An ominous roar sounded over the symphony of undead groans and within seconds the tension was broken by a loud explosion that flung charred body parts in all directions. That was not the last. A chain reaction of large explosions occurred back to back moving down the street toward the barricade, sending bodies and cars flying in all directions. Pieces of concrete smacked through glass and crushed several unfortunate souls whole and an endless stream of flames swallowed anything that stood before them. The explosions were of biblical proportions and the final explosion would create a large mushroom cloud that would rise into the nighttime sky.

"Damn..." Jake muttered as he rubbed his sore ears after the stream of explosions and looked up to see the other survivors gathered around him clearly entranced by the large flames that burned brightly before them.

"Is it finally over?" Cindy asked, a look of concern etched across her delicate features.

Jake looked at her without speaking and studied her closely. He could tell by her facial expressions that she was uncertain in her claim, as were those of the others present.

This had been only a small victory in a brewing war he sensed and could only tell himself that this was only the beginning. He looked up silently into the jet black sky and then looked down to the others with a look of grim determination.

"No...This is only the beginning..." he spoke, not even bothering to sugarcoat details and boost the morale of the survivors. He told it like it was, blunt and to the point. With a scary, yet determined gaze he looked to all of the other survivors and then slowly turned around and made his way back to the waiting police van.

Jake again found himself sitting in the back of the police van struggling to keep himself awake. He looked around to see most of the other survivors had fallen asleep or sat quietly in deep thought. They might have been victorious tonight over these rotting freaks, but he himself still had a mission to complete and another paycheck to acquire for his hard work. The van was currently en route to the local police station and he had to plan how he would sneak out and complete his mission while avoiding the police and the other survivors. At the same time he had to relax and regain his strength.

"A city where the dead walk? Again I am forced to ask myself what the hell have I just gotten myself into? Mercenaries like myself aren't supposed to question the guy writing the paycheck, but whoever this shmuck is, I'm almost wanting to track him down and rip his still beating heart from his chest for putting me into this mess, but his time will eventually come. For now, I'm gonna focus on taking out this Birkin fellow and the other scum can be dealt with later." he thought to himself as he rested his head against the wall he sat in front of.

The van sped through the war-torn streets towards its intended destination, the Raccoon Police Department, its occupants completely oblivious to what was about to befall them...

A/N: Well I'm glad to finally have this chapter through and that corruption didn't stagger my creative process one bit so I hope you read and review and enjoy the story! 


	6. Chapter 5: Divided We Fall

Darkness Arises by E-Z B

Chapter 5: Divided We Fall

Hellfire and brimstone were all that Kevin Ryman seemingly could spot outside the van as it moved through the dilapidated streets of Raccoon. He could almost swear that he had just died and gone to Hell. Nothing but violence, death, and insanity surrounded him on the outside of the police van he currently rode in.

The young officer looked out the passenger window and could see that several shops had their front windows smashed from looting, cars were demolished and several pile ups could be seen from the side streets, a city bus had spun out of control and collided with two shops barring access to nearby Durgan St., a fire hydrant had been knocked over and water gushed out from the sewer pipe underneath, an ambulance had crashed into a nearby diner with its lights and siren still going, a bullet-riddled police car had swerved to a halt in front of a record store and upon closer inspection a figure could be seen banging against the back window wanting to get out, but it was another of those rotting zombies from the streets. The van came to a stop at a malfunctioning stoplight and took a right onto Northwood Dr. Most of the features could not be seen right away because several street lights had been knocked out, but the flames of a burning bar and grill were enough to illuminate the features of this street and Kevin could see several half-eaten and bullet-riddled bodies littering the pavement suggesting that a small battle had just taken place, but through the darkness and smoke he spotted something that touched him and made him stare in anger.

Passing a nearby toy store which had front windows splattered with blood, Kevin spotted a small teddy bear laying on the sidewalk in front of the entrance. The small plush toy was untouched by the madness that surrounded it and how something so innocent and childish looking made the hardened officer nearly break down. He actually had to fight back tears at the sight. Innocent children had been caught up in this mess too! Small innocent children with no cares in the world who had families who loved them and bright futures ahead of them. Sadly, this was no more. Many had already been killed and there were probably numerous others wandering the streets in search of their lost parents. It almost tore the officer's heart out of his chest to think about this and he promised himself that whoever caused this mess would regret the day they were ever born if they met him face to face.

The van suddenly came to a screeching halt and Kevin was nearly thrown forward, "What gives?"

"More of those freaks! They're coming straight at us!" Dorian replied pointing out the front window. Looking straight ahead both officers spotted a small army of zombies approaching them from the darkness of the nearby alleys and rundown shops looking for fresh meat. "Shit, shit, shit!" Dorian spat as he quickly put the van into reverse and backed up with a great squeal of rubber knocking over several newspaper vendors before he shifted the car back into drive, "Hold on tight, this is going to get messy!"

Dorian punched his foot to the gas pedal and with another ear-piercing squeal of rubber on pavement plowed through the mass of zombies.

"Ah dammit!" Kevin grunted bracing himself against his seat as the force of hitting the zombies had been greater than he expected. He shot his eyes open to see blood splattered all over his window and Dorian struggling to wipe away innards from the windshield. "You could've tried a more subtle way, man!" he shot with his typical sardonic humor.

"Whatever your definition of subtle is, kid!" the older officer retorted as he sped down the street past several other shambling monstrosities while at the same time trying to dodge any other obstacles that littered the narrow street.

"Watch it, you're going to get us all killed!" Kevin cried as the van swerved to avoid a taxi that had smashed into a lightpost.

"Ah!" Jake cried as he was suddenly jarred out of his catnap as were the others. The previously quiet atmosphere was shattered as the van swerved sharply around its outer obstacles and was now filled with the frightened cries of its occupants.

"Shit!!!" the career criminal blurted out as he struggled to maintain his grip on the small bench he sat on. A high bump nearly caused him to be thrown from his spot, but his death grip on the wooden surface kept him from flying across the interior. The others had similar problems trying to hold onto their seats but thankfully the bumps were enough to send them flying. Everybody except Jake jumped when a loud thud was heard followed by the sound of breaking bones, the criminal himself had heard that noise plenty of times in the past fleeing from rival gangs or the authorities and innocent bystanders just happened to get caught in the crossfire, he had become so used to it now it wasn't even funny anymore.

Dorian winced as he hit a zombie that had shambled out of the shadows and splattered more blood onto the windshield. He had turned the police van onto a much darker street where most of the overhead street lights had been knocked out and most of the illumination on the streets came from the van's headlights, one of which had just been knocked out after the collision with the most recent zombie, he was almost completely running blind. This was dangerous for a man who had never driven anything larger than a regular car and especially with all the obstacles he had to dodge and the cargo he was transporting in the back. Right now their lives were in his hands and any sudden wrong moves could result in fatalities.

One by one zombies began piling out onto the street the police van was moving down. Dorian was trying his best to avoid hitting as many zombies as he could, but he knew that if he collided with too many they would eventually weaken the van's outer defenses. So far this van had proven to be valuable as a moving shield through all the wreckage and without it in a city full of zombies they would be screwed big time.

"Argh! Damn you!" Dorian grunted aloud as he swerved past an approaching zombie and nearly collided with an overturned fire engine. He was forced to abruptly turn the vehicle again after more appeared and rammed head on into an outdoor produce stand sending debris all over and covering the windshield with assorted fluids from the foods, greatly obstructing their view and forcing them to slow down a little.

From out of nowhere a rotting hand slapped against the passenger window, diverting Kevin's attention from the debris-laden road in front of him. A second later the zombie pressed its face against the window. "Son of a bitch!" the younger officer cried fumbling for his Colt .45.

"Quick! Kill it before it smashes the window!" Dorian cried as he looked over to see the monster's ashen face pressed against the thin layer of glass covering it with bloody streaks.

Nearly knocked back into the older officer Kevin finally gripped the cool steel handle of his customized handgun and raised it to the walking cadaver and squeezed the trigger. With a boom and the sound of shattering glass the creature was thrown from the vehicle.

Kevin fell backwards burying his head into the seat behind him squeezing his eyes shut after the boom of the gun left a ringing sensation in his ears.

"Well done, kiddo," Dorian said patting the younger officer on the shoulder, but in his dazed state the younger man barely even noticed it.

"Man..." Kevin mumbled as he realized that the zombie was that close to him and that close to biting him. Shaking his head slightly he suddenly felt the wet fluid on his forehead and brought a gloved hand up to wipe it off. He also felt some small shards of glass littering his uniform and quickly swept them off. He suddenly realized that he had just shot out the window and mentally kicked himself. "Great, now they can just reach in and grab me if we slow down," he scolded himself as he looked over and prayed that his compatriot did not slow the vehicle down anytime soon.

The gunshot from the front cab area made many of the occupants jump. Jake winced as an ear-piercing shriek from Jim hurt his ears, even more than the sound of a handgun being fired at close range. He could tell that a zombie must have gotten too close to the van and probably tried to hitch a ride, with the sound of glass shattering the shot was obviously fired through the window suggesting that Kevin up front hadn't had the time to roll down the window.

"Fucking idiot's going to get himself killed," Jake loudly whispered taking out his handgun to see how much he had left for ammunition. His current clip held eight rounds and he still hand one clip left in reserve. His Beretta wasn't the most powerful gun he carried on himself at the moment, but it was better than nothing and so far had proven to be useful against the hordes of undead that he had encountered. He then thought of his shotgun and remembered that he still had around twelve shells left. His magnum he had not yet had to use tonight. Something told him in the back of his mind that the living dead surrounding him on the streets weren't the last of his worries and that he would need it for later.

The van suddenly rocked again followed by a chorus of screams from some of the occupants, "Jesus, those damned things must have us surrounded!" Mark called out.

Another powerful jolt caused several items from the storage shelves to rain down upon the occupants seated between the benches, "Goddammit!" Eric cried trying to shield both himself and Miranda from the falling debris.

"What the fuck is this dumbass doing?" David called out, sounding like his normally calm demeanor had been shattered.

"Dorian, how much further to the station?" Kevin called out as he noticed some zombies that were getting dangerously close to the van.

"We should be just about four blocks away," he replied rounding another sharp corner only to suddenly hit the brakes. "Dear lord..."

The police van turned onto Clark St. only to come face to face with a wall of undead citizens that had congregated outside an outdoor cafe. Judging by the looks of things the barrier of rotting flesh must have been several rows deep and was beginning its drunken march.

"Shit there's no way around them!" Kevin cried looking towards the veteran officer seated next to him.

He was right. The zombies were so close to each other that they were tripping over each other and trampling some of their own kind in the process to get at the van and trying to turn the large van around on a street crowded with demolished cars, barricades, corpses, and other miscellaneous junk was not an option. Dorian really had no other choice. He looked down at the gas pedal and then over to Kevin, "Kid, you'd better get ready to brace yourself one more time because here goes nothing!" he shouted and then stomped the gas pedal down to the floor.

With another mighty roar the van's tires screeched against the cold pavement and with a mighty "VROOM!" the vehicle launched itself forward, plowing through the wall of undead, their tainted blood painting the front of the dark blue van a crimson red. The constant bumping of the contact with the zombies' bodies was threatening to pop the tires and the gore covered windshield had been cracked and was threatening to shatter, creating another hazard rather than just being unable to see clearly.

"Damn these freaks!" Dorian shouted as his visibility had now been reduced and he was struggling to see past the blood and try to maintain control of the van at the same time. A loud crash forced the man to jump and then jerk the wheel back and forth to avoid any potential obstacles.

"Dammit!" Kevin cried as an undead arm reached into the open window trying to grab him, but he quickly grabbed it and brought it back against the side of the shattered window, breaking it upon contact.

Meanwhile, Dorian suddenly felt the van tires give out and begin sliding underneath him, "Shit, we're going to crash! Brace yourself!"

"Oh great!" Kevin sardonically replied. He couldn't just shout to these people that they were about to be involved in an accident for fears of starting an uproar, but at the same time he would be lying if he were to tell them that they were going to be all right. Right now he could only hope that this van was well armored enough to deal with a possible full force crash. Surely enough the younger officer's fears would soon be realized.

A loud pop that sounded like a gunshot filled the air and within a second the van began to swerve uncontrollably. Everything became a wild, dancing blur as something heavy connected with the van's front end and all sound was lost, save the crunching of metal followed by the shatter of glass and Dorian's pained scream.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The accident ended as quickly as it had begun.

Jake Cavanaugh laid against the wall with his eyes shut. He had temporarily blacked out from the force of the impact. It would only be the frightened cries of the people around him that would rouse him a few minutes later. He let out a loud grunt and slowly stirred back into consciousness and was quickly followed by an anguished cry as he felt a sharp pain stab him in the temple like an ice pick. He slowly opened his eyes only to quickly shut them again as everything spiraled and twirled in front of him. "Focus dammit!" he half-shouted to himself as he pressed his hands on both temples in an attempt to steady his head. He slowed down his breathing and massaged his temples until the pain could subside. He then gently shook his head and slowly opened his eyes and rubbed them in an attempt to get rid of the bright spots he saw as his vision tried to focus. Once his sight had fully returned he began running his fingers through his scalp and pulled them out to find no blood present, definitely a good thing. The young man then rolled up his sleeves, felt down his legs, and then rubbed around his entire upper torso to feel for any broken bones and found nothing, another welcome relief. The frightened cries of the other survivors began to register and looked around at the rest of them.

As he turned to look to the others, Jake suddenly realized that only a few seconds before George had been knocked unconscious and passed out slumped against his broad shoulder. He had unknowingly moved the good doctor off to the side when he himself had regained consciousness and now saw that the older man himself was gradually stirring back into consciousness.

"Is everybody all right in here?" Mark called out frantically darting his eyes around the small enclosed space. He had not been injured in the crash and was trying to ensure everybody else's safety. The middle-aged guard quickly turned his attention to Cindy the waitress, who cringed tightly on the bench next to him bent down with her arms shielding her head and breathing in rapid succession, "It's all right miss, just calm down," he spoke softly helping the young woman back to an upright position. Her perpetually cheerful demeanor had almost been completely shattered and she looked upward with a frozen look of shock etched upon her delicate features.

"What the hell was this maniac thinking?" David hurriedly called out, betraying his usual cool, silent persona. Perhaps the man was slowly beginning to crack with everything he had just gone through tonight, just another sign that things were that bad. Yoko sat next to David still. She was still too frightened to speak and could only look around in shock. Her deep breaths were a tell-tale sign of the fear she was experiencing right now.

Between the two rows of benches Eric rubbed the back of his head. He had apparently been struck by some falling boxes while placing himself on top of Miranda to safeguard her from any potential harm. Mark was already hovering over him to make sure he was all right. Jake found himself having to commend the young college student for his willingness to throw himself into the line of fire to protect others, but at the same time he felt the need to curse what he perceived to be a foolish action. Being a career criminal, there had been plenty of times in the past when Jake would have to work with a partner or a group of people and he perfectly understood the need to protect the people working with you for you would need all the help you could get to survive a sticky situation, yet you would also have to watch out for your own safety at the same time. This Eric kid may have been a compassionate fellow who would throw himself in the way of a moving semi truck to save the life of another person, but he seemed to be a little too willing to put his body on the line for another and if he kept that up too frequently then that could lead to a possible demise before fate had intended.

"Are you all right?" Miranda asked the college student after she realized what he had just done for her. Miranda was an attractive young lady who seemed like the kind that almost any guy would try to sacrifice themselves for. With her looks and friendly personality she seemed like somebody whom it would be worth doing it for and probably only one of the few that it could bring about a positive outcome from. Jake had known too many people in his short life who would end up trying to sacrifice their own body and life in the name of another person who supposedly meant a great deal to them, only to have that person stab them in the back when their troubles had concluded, yet there truly seemed to be something different about this young woman that could assume that in the end she would truly be grateful with what had been done for her.

Next to Eric, Alyssa hollered in pain as he had been squished against her knees. She pushed against him hoping to get her off and when he finally realized what had happened he quickly moved away from her allowing the reporter some much needed breathing room. Jim sat next to her with his facial features contorted in fear and fist raised in the air clenching his lucky coin. The only sound coming from him was his manic heavy breathing.

"Jim, are you all right? Jim! Speak to me dammit!" Mark shouted looking down upon the younger man. He did not respond. "Jim, wake up dammit!" he shouted again. Still no response. Finally, Alyssa jammed her elbow into the younger man's side.

Jim instantly shot up with his fist raised into the air, "My lucky coin has saved my life again!!!" he triumphantly proclaimed, oblivious to the pain in his ribs. When he heard no response he opened his eyes to see the other survivors present staring at him blankly and saying nothing. "Sorry..." he muttered. Feeling embarrassed and rubbing his side as he now felt the pain in his ribs as he sat down.

Ralph was seemingly snapped out of his trance by the crash and quickly began looking around the van, "Oh god, is everybody all right?" he asked to random people anxious for a reply and was nearly falling out of his seat until George stood up and prevented him from falling. Phil still remained silent and tried to bury himself in the corner with his arms guarding his head from invisible terrors, "Please...Please go away!" he finally muttered. The others did not approach him for fear of lashing out.

"Hey, get me some help up here!" Kevin called out from the front, "Dorian's hurt bad, somebody get up here and help me out!" he frantically shouted. The words seemed to have a special effect on George as one second he had been groaning lazily recovering from being knocked out after impact to seemingly shaking it off the next and quickly kicking the back doors open and rushing to the officer's aid. Mark and Cindy both sensed the urgency in the younger officer's tone and quickly sprung out the back to help out, Eric and Miranda following them closely. The others except for Jake and Phil got up shortly thereafter and followed them.

Jake sat there staring at the man across from him. The man he had known only for a few hours still laid there across from him holding himself tightly as if he was shielding himself from those monsters that had attacked them earlier. He couldn't blame a man for being terrified, right now it was safe to say that this town had gone to hell and there were probably plenty of other people out there who were just as frightened as him barricaded in their homes and stocked up on rations and weapons waiting for any kind of cavalry to arrive and get them out of this mess. He had to pity them because it was scaredy cats like them that were more likely to die in a situation like this rather than someone who was out on the streets at least moving around and trying to get out of this dump. Staying in one location too long was like opening up a meat market to these freaks and they would not hesitate to move in for a free meal if needed, you had to keep moving if you wanted to survive.

This Phil character had probably lost a lot of loved ones on this heinous night. He probably had a decent job, a lovely wife and family back home, close friends, and a seemingly normal life up until tonight, now he sat in a terrified daze like he had lost everything and it left him in his current deluded state. Jake may not have been a saint, but yet he knew not even an ordinary joe deserved to go through something like this, nobody did.

He approached the cringing man and patted him hard on the shoulder, "Hey, snap out of it man!" he spoke firmly. The man did not respond and continued wallowing in his own horrified daze. Jake patted him on the shoulder again, this time a little harder, "Wake up dammit!" He went to smack the guy on the back when he suddenly brought his hand up to deflect the blow.

"Don't you fucking touch me you heartless bastard!" he roared and brought his fist up to strike the career criminal.

Jake saw the man from a mile away and quickly grabbed the man's fist before it could fly in his direction and with a fluid motion pinned the man's arm behind his back and shoved the side of his face into the hard wall of the cargo area and then threw him down onto the bench.

Phil hit the wooden bench with a hard thud and quickly rolled onto his back to see that Jake was approaching him with his fist raised and brought his arms up to shield his face, "Please don't..."

Jake looked down upon the man and saw the fear in his eyes. He did not intend to strike the man, but rather intimidate him into not putting up a struggle so he could get a point across with this man. He lowered his fist and stood over the man, "Look man, I'm sorry to rough you up like that, but you've gotta get a fucking grip on yourself! You can cry in depression about getting fucked over later on, but right now we've got to focus on getting out of here before the shit really hits the fan and you breaking down like this isn't going to make things any easier. If you want to make it out of this alive you're going to have to pull yourself together. I don't know about you, but I'm determined to make it out of this mess alive and I'm not going to be slowed down because somebody can't control themselves. Now move your ass or sit here and rot! Your decision, pal!" With his little lecture finished, Jake leapt out of the back of the van and joined the others. Phil stared sadly before the career criminal's words finally sunk in and took effect. He slowly stepped out and joined the others.

To call Dorian a mess was a total understatement. He looked like a trainwreck! The front of the police van had struck the back of a semi trailer at full force and much of the front end had been smashed in like a stomped on soda can. Kevin miraculously had managed to escape unharmed and had crawled out of the window he had shot out, but Dorian hadn't been as lucky.

"Come on dammit!" Kevin shouted as he kicked the crumpled driver's side door and then tried to pry it open, "Don't just stand there, I need your help!" he hurriedly shouted clawing at the door's handle desperate to get at his injured comrade. Mark and David quickly ran over and attempted to assist in prying the door open, even cowardly Jim pitched in to help, offering his iron pipe to the much stronger security guard to use to help force it open. The robust guard quickly managed to loosen part of the smashed in door and had finally reached a part that had been wrinkled open a little and was close to getting at it, "Stand back I've almost got it!" he shouted to the other men and with some additional tugs finally ripped the door open.

Mark immediately jumped back as he was greeted by the unconscious Officer Dorian's body nearly slumping out onto the street, held in only by his seatbelt. The middle-aged guard caught the unconscious officer and cautiously placed him upright and nearly recoiled at the sight of the mangled man. Dorian looked like he had just been sent through a garbage disposal. Several cuts were present all over his face and his remaining hair had been matted down by a forming pool of blood from a gash along his scalp. All of the blood had turned the older officer's light blue shirt to a dark crimson and there were several deep cuts all over his arms as well.

"Let me through!" George called out followed by Cindy who had retrieved some healing herbs from her case she carried on her. The doctor climbed onto the vehicle's stand and felt the officer's warm neck for a pulse. He was still alive thank goodness.

"Dorian! Are you there? Speak to me!" George called out to the officer hoping to awaken him. He stared at the officer worried for his safety and wondering if he would be alive much longer without adequate medical treatment. After a few tense seconds a groan emanated from the suffering officer.

"Ohhhh..." Dorian groaned as he slowly shook his head and opened his eyes to see George standing before him. He tried to raise his hand to wipe away some blood that had dripped into his eye, only to cry out in pain as he tried to raise his arm. The doctor looked down at the older man's arm to see that it had been broken and was probably only being held together by the skin on the outside.

"Try not to overexert yourself," the doctor ordered as he motioned for the man to keep his hands down, "You appear to be hurt very badly, but I don't want to move you because I don't want to do any further damage to you. With all this madness going on in this city I can't get the paramedics out here right away." He didn't want to say it in front of everybody else, especially Kevin, but the chances of this man's survival were very slim. The man was coughing out blood and wheezing heavily, suggesting that one of his lungs may have been punctured and judging by the position of various debris lying scattered around him there was a very good chance that he probably had fractured ribs. Not knowing what to do he turned back to Cindy, who stared back with a look of intense worry. He figured he had better try to have her help in some way so that she wouldn't feel so powerless.

"Cindy, give me some herbs now," he ordered extending his hand. The young woman seemed to perk up a little bit and reached into her case pulling out a cloth with mixed green and red herbs on it and handed it to the doctor. He began to gently apply the medicinal herbs to the officer's wounds and pulled a hemostatic pill from his medical case and popped it into the man's mouth hoping to slow down his bleeding. He then began to reach into his kit for a can of first-aid spray and some bandages.

Jake stood off to the side watching the doctor try to perform a miracle on the dying officer. The others stood around silently observing the procedure with varying looks of worry, hoping that somehow the officer's life could be saved. He looked up to Kevin who stood right behind the waitress. He seemed to be the most determined to save his fellow officer's life and the fact that he didn't possess the medical training to help this man was slowly eating away at him and he had his fists tightly balled up looking like he wanted to explode.

"Man, looks like that Phil character isn't the only person who needs to pull himself together. That pig looks like he wants to go out and start shooting those things for the hell of it. He keeps that kind of behavior up he's going to get himself hurt or worse..." the career criminal was talking silently to himself when he looked directly into the van's driver side rearview mirror and saw a large figure appear.

"Huh?"

He moved past David and Mark to get a closer look at whatever it was that he spotted in the rearview mirror and suddenly felt a chill when he noticed that the figure was carrying a powerful weapon that he knew all too well.

"Oh shit! Look out!!!" he screamed and with an inhuman speed charged towards the doctor and waitress and flung himself into the air, colliding with both of their bodies and sending them flying to the concrete a few feet away from them. The other survivors were dumbfounded by Jake's actions, but they would soon find out why.

A hiss filled the air followed by an ear-splitting whistle that Mark recognized from his days in the trenches of Vietnam, "Oh god, everybody fall back!!!"

A large dart-like object soared towards the police van and connected.

KA-BOOOOOOOOOOOMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The police van exploded into a large ball of flame and sent the battered survivors flying in all different directions.

"What the hell was that?" Eric cried quickly scampering back to his feet and pressing his hands to his ears hoping to block out the ringing that accompanied the explosion.

"It must've been a rocket!" Mark shouted over the roaring flames as he staggered over to help Alyssa and Yoko back to their feet.

"But from where?" Miranda added.

"Oh no...Not Dorian too!" Kevin shouted in panic as he stared directly into the wall of flames that stood where the police van had just moments ago. He had lost another comrade to this violence and he could only pray for the safety of those who were probably out on the streets somewhere and those back at the station.

Jim stood at the back of the group looking around for the source of what had caused the van to blow up and at the same time ducking around hoping that the group wasn't in any more danger of hostile fire. Looking upwards to the rooftops he saw something that he wished he had never seen, something that looked like it was straight out of one of his childhood nightmares, something that would make him stand deathly still without a word.

"Jim, are you there?" Ralph called out hoping for a reply from the usually whiny subway attendant, but he would turn to face the man and see the same thing that he did and suddenly began to shake violently in terror. He clutched onto David's shoulder and spun him around, "Oh god...L-L-Look!!!"

The plumber stared up at what both men before him had spotted and let out a low gasp, "What the hell is that thing?" he spoke and then spun around to alert the others, "It's up there!!!" he screamed pointing to the rooftops.

The other survivors diverted their attention to where the young plumber had pointed and all stood shocked at what they had just seen. Jake too would lay eyes upon what had frightened everybody else and even he too would find himself nearly frozen by what he was about to see, "Another monster..."

Standing on the rooftop of an apartment building above the group stood an abomination that looked like something ten times worse than the zombies they had just encountered moments before.

The creature stood about eight feet tall and was clad from head to toe in black leather. Two large rock-like formations were at the end of the creature's upper appendages that must have been its hands. What appeared to be the creature's "head" was a large lump of ashen, leathery-looking strips that appeared to be sewn together. Where the creature's mouth should have been there were no lips present, flashing a permanent, demonic grin and a single orb looked down upon the ragtag group. In its right hand, the gargantuan monstrosity proudly displayed what had caused the explosion, a rocket launcher! Before anybody could react the creature opened its mouth and uttered a single word with a demonic boom sinister enough to drive even the bravest of men to tremble in fear.

"...S.T.A.R.S.!!!"

The creature's growl frightened all of the survivors beyond belief and snapped them out of their trances and had them running around like rats in a maze. Kevin could only shout one order to the survivors.

"RUN!!!!"

The monster had no data on any of these human beings, but they had all been unfortunate enough to cross his path and it was programmed to take no prisoners. Hoisting its rocket launcher into the air, the creature squeezed the trigger sending a rocket flying in the direction of the survivors.

"SCATTER!!!" Mark hollered over the sound of the rocket whizzing and dove behind a dumpster for cover.

The rocket struck a cluster of damaged cars, sending shrapnel and flames flying into the air. Many of the survivors were forced to take cover to avoid the flying debris. Fires soon spread along the concrete with all of the gasoline that had been spilt from accidents and the survivors would soon find themselves cut off from each other and had been dwindled down to small groups.

"Ah...Fuck!" Kevin grunted forcing himself back to his feet after the blast sent him flying through the air and landing on his stomach. He slowly stood up tall and brushed off his uniform and bent down to pick up his Colt .45. "Man, I'm gonna demand a fucking pay raise if I make it out of this one alive!" he complained aloud and turned to find Alyssa standing behind him fretting over some unknown substances being sprayed onto one of her favorite suits. He turned to find Yoko, Ralph, and Phil bumbling about as the smoke had greatly obscured their vision and had them coughing heavily. The officer felt the heat of the flames begin to sink in and he was forced to wipe a heavy amount of sweat from his forehead.

Alyssa gagged heavily from smoke inhalation and Kevin would quickly rush over to support her, "This damned smoke isn't making things any easier!" she spat grabbing a handkerchief to keep the wretched fumes from entering her nostrils. The R.P.D. officer tried to move her to a safer area and stumbled across Yoko in the process, lending her his remaining shoulder for support. The trio suddenly stopped when Kevin noticed something that was a disaster waiting to happen.

Before them sat an S.U.V. with gasoline pouring out of its tank and a trail of flames that were getting dangerously close. If they reached the vehicle it would spell disaster unless the five people could make it out in time, when from out of nowhere Kevin spotted a manhole that had been pried open.

"There!!!" he cried dragging the two women towards it.

"Are you serious?" Alyssa bellowed in disbelief.

"We have no other choice! Ralph, Phil come on now!" the officer shouted to the two men who were wandering around nearby. Moving quickly he managed to get Alyssa down first followed closely by Yoko. Ralph and Phil followed and then Kevin would be the last one down pulling the manhole cover down behind him. Seconds later the flames finally caught up to the sports utility vehicle and created another massive explosion that rocked the underground beneath them.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Oh shit, where did everybody else go?" Eric cried out as he had to brace himself against a nearby vehicle to rise back to his feet. He looked to his right to find Miranda cringing in a corner trying to block out the sound of the roaring flames and perhaps fearing that the monster from the rooftop was still nearby. Noticing this the young college student looked around for any sign of the monster, yet he could find nothing over the flames that surrounded them.

"Miranda?" he loudly whispered moving closer to the young woman. The woman recognized his voice and slowly looked over to him with tears in her eyes.

"Is that creature gone? I don't want to die..." she spoke in a cracked tone, unable to fight the fear that was overtaking her.

"Oh my god..." Eric silently spoke. This woman was truly terrified of dying and right now he himself was afraid to die on a night like this. He could completely relate to her anguish, but they would have to remain stable if they were going to make it to the next sunrise. He would have to choose his words carefully in order to help her out.

"Yes, he's gone," he said moving closer to her noticing that she had dropped her shotgun and picked it up for her. "Come on, we have to find some way out of here," he added as he reached out and placed a warm, comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I don't want to die. Eric, please help me find some way out of this mess," she sobbed throwing her arms around the young man's shoulders.

"Don't worry. I promise, I'll do what I can to get you out of here alive," he spoke as soothingly as he possibly could returning her warm embrace. He found this girl to be very attractive and suddenly felt a great warmth from her touch, enough to temporarily melt away a lot of the pain he had experienced tonight. For once Hell had become Heaven and he was in the arms of an angel. The young man made a promise to protect this woman at all costs.

"Is anybody there?" Mark's commanding voice suddenly called out. The two young adults turned to find Mark scouring the area for any of the other survivors. They could see that the security guard had David on one of his shoulders having just helped him back to his feet after landing on the back of his head.

"We're right here!" Eric called out helping Miranda back to her feet and leading her over to the two other men, "What about the others?"

Before the guard could say anything, another chorus of moans was heard and the four survivors turned to spot another mass of zombies closing in on them.

"Aw fuck, no time for chit-chat we've gotta go!" Mark said as he tried to help David further, but the plumber pushed him away.

"I'm okay now, just let me run by myself I'm not a child," David said rubbing the back of his sore head and then leading the way to a side alley.

The three other survivors quickly followed suit.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Oh shit, they're coming!" Jim blurted out as he spotted yet another army of the undead approaching them. He turned to see George sitting against a wall checking himself over for any possible injuries and Cindy searching for her handgun she had dropped after being thrown by the force of the blast.

"Terrific..." George sarcastically spoke to his two companions, "Come on we have to get out of here!"

"But what about the others?" Cindy asked trying to see over the surrounding flames for any potential survivors.

George was struck by the young woman's words. He honestly didn't know what to think and if the others were alive he would not want to leave them behind. "I don't think we have much choice left. If the others made it out alive I'm sure they'll find shelter sometime or later. None of them can be too weak if they made it this far with us." The trio observed the zombies closing in on them and proceeded down an alleyway hoping to find a place of refuge sooner or later.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The flames were seemingly endless around Jake as he stood surrounded by wrecked cars and dilapidated buildings. It was like he had just been transported to Hell itself. The monster was nowhere in sight and neither were the other survivors from the bar. Perhaps the monster had just given up believing them to have been obliterated in the sequential order of blasts. Although he had not bonded too closely with the others he still found himself wondering about their safety and if they had all perished in the explosions or if they had all somehow escaped and were now traveling about their own ways around the city. 

He didn't want to admit it, but he had all of them to thank for making it this far, but right now he couldn't sit back and grieve. Strangely enough at the same time, he felt a brief sense of freedom because now the survivors weren't there to stand in his way and now he could freely move about without arousing suspicion. There was a troublesome scientist that needed to be eliminated and a handsome reward to be collected.

In the distance the moans of the undead could be heard and now he knew that those zombies weren't the only thing out there like he had thought earlier on.

Jake unslung his Franchi SPAS-12 assault shotgun and loaded some fresh shells into the chamber and proceeded further down the street. 

There was more death to be dealt and within the coming hours more corpses would soon litter the streets. 


	7. Chapter 6: Main Street Massacre

Darkness Arises by E-Z B

Chapter 6: Main Street Massacre

Jake stalked the dilapidated streets hoping to avoid any other monsters that may have been roaming nearby. He was getting dangerously low on ammunition and needed to find a safe place to relax before continuing on with his mission. Remembering his mission objective, he used his free hand to reach into his right pocket and pulled out the picture he had been given of Dr. William Birkin to remind himself of what his target looked like.

"The man could be anywhere," Jake thought to himself as he scanned the surrounding buildings and alleys for possible survivors. In a chaotic situation like this a highly valuable target like Birkin could easily escape with all the distractions present, but the career criminal highly doubted that a scrawny, weak-looking scientist could hide anywhere for too long without arousing suspicion from others. There was however still the possibility that he could be located in a heavily guarded, well-populated place somewhere in the city, like the police station or local hospital, maybe he might still even be shacked up in this supposed hidden research facility that was mentioned in the documents the career criminal had received from his mysterious benefactor. Even if the man did escape the city, Jake would still track him down and eliminate him with extreme prejudice.

It had been nearly an hour since the police van had been blown sky high and Jake had been separated from the other survivors. He found himself in an area that had not been touched by as much violence as the part of town where the police van had crashed. Even though he was not on a mission to rescue survivors he would still find himself carefully leering into shop windows and lower level apartment windows looking for any possible signs of survivors. Over the years, he had trained himself to suppress his feelings of compassion for others for it had only gotten in his way of completing mission objectives. But everything he had gone through tonight suddenly caused him to feel some concern for the safety of others and he secretly found himself wishing them the best in whatever had happened to the rest of them.

The criminal patrolled the streets with shotgun drawn sweeping it back and forth as he came across an alley like a soldier scouting a room for enemies. He came across a pet store where the front window had been splashed with blood. The litters that held the animals were empty, suggesting that they probably became a zombie's midnight snack when they couldn't find human beings to feast on. Whatever was going on he wasn't sticking around to find out.

Moving further on the man found himself in front of a small bookstore where the front window had been smashed. Looking inside he spotted several corpses lying on the carpeted floor filled with bullets suggesting another small battle had taken place. The scent of gunpowder didn't linger in the air so the battle must have occurred several hours ago. There appeared to be nothing of interest so he moved onward.

"Ooooooooohhhhhhh!"

"Damn!" Jake hissed as he heard the long torturous moan, knowing that even if it was only one zombie moaning that there would certainly be others nearby within due time. The career criminal readied his shotgun and ducked down behind an abandoned Ford Escort waiting for the enemy to appear, "Come to me you freak."

From the shadows of a nearby alley a zombie in a blood-soaked police officer's uniform shambled out into the open street looking like he had just been through a major car wreck. The former human's face was covered in bloody peeling strips exposing the bone beneath and its right arm was eaten through and barely held together by the rotting skin that covered it. The monster appeared to be alone.

"Piece of cake!" Jake said holstering his shotgun and withdrawing his combat knife from his shin holster. He flipped himself over the front hood of the Escort and charged at the zombie, launching himself into the air and performing a Bruce Lee-style flying kick that caught the beast in the chest and sent it skidding backwards into a post office box. Once the monster was flat on its back, the career criminal rushed over to it and stabbed it in the side of the head, killing it instantly.

"First time in quite a while I've smoked a pig," Jake remarked staring at the now dead zombie that lay before him. He knelt down and felt around the former officer's holster finding another 9mm. Beretta handgun and four extra clips. Smiling to himself, he slid the extra handgun into a shin holster on his other foot and pocketed the clips. He spotted a black nightstick strapped to the officer's utility belt and decided to take that as well if ever the need arose.

More moans and dragging footsteps were heard coming from behind and the young criminal quickly withdrew his pistol again. He stood there waiting calmly as seven additional zombies emerged from the same alley the zombified cop had come from and all seemed to pick up speed as they spotted a still-living human.

"Seven of these rotting fucks..." Jake muttered to himself as he observed his new attackers. Sure there were indeed seven of them, but he could see that all of them had been spread out and seemed to ignore each others' presence as they pursued the career criminal. He figured as long as he could keep enough distance between all of them, he could eventually drop them one by one. "Just have to keep them far away from each other," he told himself.

A large zombie dressed in worker's clothing stumbled towards Jake, who stood there unimpressed. "Ready to die?" he asked mockingly. The zombie only groaned in frustration. "I'll take that as a yes." The career criminal rushed towards the brute and delivered a high kick to the monster's face and then spun his body around, delivering a backfist that shattered the beast's nose. He finished the monster off with a jumping turn kick that caught it full force in the forehead, snapping its neck backwards and letting it fall to the ground.

"Amateur!" he taunted as he sized up his next opponent. The next zombie coming at him was a grungy looking man in a leather jacket with the right side of his face eaten away. Jake ran up to him and delivered a snap kick that knocked the former human flat on its back. Within seconds the creature had climbed back to its feet, only to be met with a low kick to its shin, followed by Jake grabbing the monster by the back of its head and ramming his knee into its already bloody face several times. With the creature stunned, Jake got behind the monster wrapping his arms around the creature's waist and flipped it backwards, performing a German Suplex into the pavement that cracked the zombie's skull wide open.

Withdrawing the nightstick he had picked up from the dead police officer, the career criminal focused on his next target, a small zombie that had once been a young woman. With a twirl, he jumped in front of her and struck her twice in the face before seeing that she was wearing bib overalls and quickly slid the nightstick between her straps and with a mighty roar, flipped her over his shoulder and brought her down to the concrete with a sickening crack. Quickly rising back up he spun around and executed a reverse heel kick to a male zombie that stood near the female and then spun around to perform a jumping sobat kick before twirling down to strike the monster in its leg before bringing down the nightstick on top of its head, fracturing yet another skull.

"Shit!" Jake spat wiping some sweat from his forehead as the remaining three zombies made their advance. Feeling drained, he pulled out his Beretta and finished off the survivors with head shots before sitting down on the hood of a wrecked Sedan. "Damn, this shit is definitely not what I came here for!" he said aloud trying to regain his strength. He looked down at his digital watch to see that it was already past one o'clock in the morning. Usually he was used to being up this late at night, but the events of tonight had severely drained him both physically and mentally. It would only be a matter of time before he would have to find a place to rest and hopefully find a meal. Unfortunately, the only place he would probably be able to find those would be located in the city's police station, which was probably still crawling with pigs up the ass, left behind to hold down the fort.

"Man, as if things couldn't go to Hell in a handbasket anymore than they already have..." Jake muttered aloud picking up a small piece of rock and chucking it at one of the prone corpses lying on the street beneath him. He smiled inwardly as the rock struck the deceased monstrosity in the head, making him think of what he was going to do to the future zombies that crossed his path. He needed to sit down and found a bench near a demolished newsstand and sat down stretching out his long legs.

A man relaxing on a bench in the middle of a warzone would be considered an unusual sight by anybody in their right mind. Jake was perfectly sane, but still needed his rest. He was a man in excellent physical condition, with years of grueling workouts that had built up his strength and stamina, supplemented by the time he spent running from the law and all the illegal street fights he had been involved in. He had received little formal training in any kind of martial arts and had learned a majority of his moves from watching martial arts movies, professional wrestling matches, or were just moves he had assimilated from previous opponents into his own style. He fought with his own original style that included moves found in Traditional Karate, Muay Thai Kickboxing, Vale Tudo, Tae Kwon Do, Ninjitsu, different styles of Kung Fu, and several different forms of boxing and wrestling. His fighting skills had served him well so far tonight, but deep down he knew that they would not last him forever and he would eventually have to to acquire heavy artillery to take on legions of these freaks. He figured there was probably a gun shop nearby where he would be able to acquire civilian versions of the most powerful assault rifles and extra ammunition, along with the strong possibility that he would probably end up breaking into someone's home and find a gun or two stashed somewhere. He also felt there was a strong chance he would probably stumble across an abandoned police cruiser or another police officer's corpse and find some extra weapons or ammo. With his previous combat experience, there probably wasn't a firearm out there he couldn't handle.

Jake sat on the bench bent over with his hands clasped together looking down at the pavement as he thought to himself. His train of thought was broken by the all too familiar moans of the undead and he would look up to see another large group of zombies closing in on his direction. "So much for the afterthought," he sarcastically quipped and rose back to his feet with pistol drawn and made his escape.

The career criminal ran as fast as he could bobbing, weaving, and jumping over debris that lay scattered in the street looking for a possible side exit. He found an alley with a locked metal gate and quickly made a beeline towards it. Not having the time to fool around he raised his pistol and fired a single shot into the padlock and kicked it open.

"Move your fucking ass, Jake!" the criminal shouted to himself as he rushed down the dark alley hoping to himself that there weren't anymore of those freaks lurking in the shadows, waiting to leap out and tear into his jugular. Feeling around the alley he knocked trashcans and crates over to slow down the zombies if they were to catch onto his scent. He suddenly spotted a bright light from around a corner into a more well-lit portion of the alley which finally displayed all the graffiti and trash that had been present all along. Another zombie smashed through a glass window in front of him. "Sorry, I don't have the time for you ugly!" he blurted out and fired a round between the creature's eyes.

Clanks and crunches were heard from behind, signalling that the zombies were getting closer. "Damn it all to fucking hell!" he loudly whispered as he made his advance and spotted another metal gate in front of him. Summoning a boost of energy he threw himself through the gate and quickly locked it behind him.

"Stupid..." Before Jake could finish his sentence he heard a loud squish and looked down to see that he had just stepped on a drying strand of human intestines. He followed the trail to what was left of the remnants of a teenage girl who appeared to be no older than thirteen or fourteen years old. Her skin still retained its peach color suggesting that she had not been a zombie at the time of death and most of her body had been turned into a midnight snack by those monsters. 

The sight of this made the career criminal's blood boil. Sure, he wasn't the most moral person you would ever meet, but harming small children and teenagers was something he did not believe in.

He spotted another dead body lying in a large pool of blood and went to investigate. The body was that of a young adult male wearing a bloody black t-shirt and torn blue jeans. Jake studied the man's gray skin tone suggesting that he had already turned before dying. This evidence was further supported by the bullethole found in the man's right temple. Could this have been the man that tore apart that teenage girl? Wait a minute, there were more of them!

Slumped against the wall with a bullet in her face was a female zombie with long blonde hair and wearing a revealing red dress covered with several splotches on the torso, suggesting that the killer might have struck her several times before finally delivering the fatal shot. Around the corner, a pair of extra feet stuck out a few feet away from her that belonged to an overweight zombie with a large hole that shown through its entire head. Two more zombies were sprawled out nearby having also been dispatched with headshots and right in front of them stood an entire group of zombies that were in the middle of tearing another body apart, through all of the bloody mess Jake managed to spot a hand clutching a .38 revolver, perhaps that of the man who had killed the other zombies.

"More of these walking cadavers...And there appears to be no way around them," Jake said quietly as he observed that the little zombie feast took up the entire width of the narrow alley and there was no way to bypass them. He would have to fight his way through.

With a silent nod, Jake fired upon the group, immediately dropping a zombie at the front of the pack. The gunshot caught the attention of the other zombies and slowly they rose to their feet and pushed their way through the narrow alley in search of their dessert. With a half-smirk he dropped three of the zombies and left one standing. Charging up his inner strength, Jake leapt at the creature and knocked it backwards with a flying kick, sending it flying backwards and fracturing its skull on a nearby dumpster.

The zombies had been eliminated and Jake quickly took the time to inspect their meal. The person they had been chewing on was ravaged beyond recognition to the point where it was even impossible to tell what race the person had been. He looked more closely at the .38 revolver held in the man's hand to see that it had been broken, which had probably led to the person's eventual demise. Jake had no time to grieve for the mysterious man as he saw another metal gate in front of him and assumed that the zombies that had chased him into the alley were probably still on his trail.

Locking the gate behind him, Jake slowly turned around with pistol raised. This alley was much more well-lit than where he had previously been and also appeared to be a little cleaner. Stepping slowly and quietly he proceeded with caution and checked some nearby windows to make sure nothing would leap out at him. A growl suddenly diverted his attention to a corner that awaited him ahead.

A Doberman stepped out from around the corner and looked at Jake. This was no ordinary Doberman though. The medium sized dog had all of the flesh on the left side of its face torn off, including the ear and all of the flesh on its sides torn off, exposing its glistening internal organs.

"So Fido is affected by this shit too?" he asked himself as the animal bared its teeth at him. The dog snapped at him with foam flying out of its mouth before making its charge.

Going into a combative stance, Jake fired a round that struck the creature in mid air. As the beast lay on the group yelping, the career criminal ran over and fired a shot into its head.

"Man, this is some seriously fucked up shit. At least Mr. Vercetti never put me through any of this crap," Jake spoke quietly as he stared at the dead dog. "First I dealt with those zombies back at the bar and then that Frankenstein reject with the rocket launcher. Now animals are affected by this shit too? Heh, after tonight I probably wouldn't be too surprised if I started getting attacked by mutated plants and giant lizards. Maybe that Birkin shithead decided to send a welcoming committee to me after all." Nothing else appeared to be of any use in the alley so Jake decided to move on to the next.

The next alley led to a dead end with a ladder. Looking around the career criminal spotted several doors that had been boarded up and a side entrance that was heavily barricaded by construction roadblocks, wooden tables, crates, and broken off doors.

"Looks like I don't have much choice," Jake said aloud and holstered his handgun.

After a short climb, Jake found himself atop a five story apartment complex that offered him a greater view of the streets below. Looking down from his perch he managed to spot a sign that read "Main St." and saw that the main street was consumed by much of the chaos he had seen at the barricade where he and the other survivors from J's Bar had done battle with an entire army of the undead. He didn't have time to dwell upon that as he still had a mission to complete.

The career criminal looked across to see another apartment complex that stood the same height as the building before him and he gracefully leapt across and then performed a running leap onto a shorter building and then leapt onto the fire escape of the next building and ran up to rooftop before making another leap.

Jake was about to make his next leap when he spotted an entire convoy of police vehicles congregating on the street below. He observed them setting up barricades and at the end of the street could see another approaching army of undead. He was about to witness another massacre.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Raccoon City. A relatively quiet, peaceful city of over 150,000 people. A place known for its plentiful parks, booming business, low crime rate, and friendly people. All in all, it could be considered by many outsiders to be the ideal American town, a place where the citizens seemed to have an overwhelming sense of pride in their community.

Little did the common people know, a sinister force was present within their city, a force which controlled much of their day-to-day functions and held influence over their most powerful public figures, one that was connected to the mysterious murders and eventual Spencer Estate explosion in the Arklay Mts., and a force which would eventually lead to its ultimate destruction.

An eerie silence hung in the nighttime air on the desolate streets of Raccoon City on that cool September night, a silence leading to tension, a thick tension which seemed to foreshadow an impending doom upon the small city.

On Main St., a large S.W.A.T. van pulled to a screeching halt behind a makeshift barricade created by surrounding police cars and wooden barricades. The back doors flew open followed by several heavily armed S.W.A.T. officers clad in full riot gear piling out of the back and taking positions around the barricade.

Among the officers was David McGraw, a twenty-five year old former U.S. Marine who would immediately join the Raccoon City Police Department's S.W.A.T. team upon his honorable discharge and had quickly become one of its top operatives, making him a great candidate for a future leadership role.

The young officer took his position behind a police car with a Colt M4A1 assault rifle gripped tightly in his hands. He looked over at the other officers surrounding him and managed to pick out his best friend Grant Bronsky checking over his Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine gun. He remembered all the good times he had had with his best friend and the other guys from around the station in the past and all the previous missions they had successfully participated in together. He believed that like any other mission, he and his friend would go out to the nearest bar and drink in victory afterwards.

Grant noticed his friend looking over to him and he smiled throwing a thumbs up signal, "Let's kick some ass partner!"

David nodded back to him and then looked around to the other officers present. He had made many friends on the force during his three years with the R.P.D. and he did not want to see any of them harmed on this assignment, which he had hoped would be just to quell a riot and nothing more.

He looked to his left and saw a red-haired man of medium height whom he instantly recognized as David Ford, a respected veteran from the uniformed division. He had been there for David when he had first joined the force after his discharge from the Marines and the younger officer would be forever indebted to him.

Next to Ford was Arthur Meyer, another veteran officer and certified firearms instructor who was known to be one of the R.P.D.'s best marksmen, a strong rival to S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team's marksman Chris Redfield.

Sgt. Neil Carlsen took a position between David and Grant. Carlsen himself was a former Marine who joined the R.P.D. upon being discharged and was one of the few officers who would help make David's transition into law enforcement much smoother.

Towards the front of the barricade was an African-American man of medium height named Marvin Branagh. Marvin was a lieutenant who was well-known around the station for his leadership abilities and cheerful personality, making him popular amongst many of his peers. Many viewed him as a great candidate for chief in the future.

Several others stood around as well. Hugo Elran, from the Boys' Crimes Department, who kind of came across as being an asshole, Jerome Casper, a veteran uniformed officer who had a reputation of being a comedian, Chuck Deagle, a shady individual who was suspected by many from around the station for taking bribes from local drug dealers, Vince Prescott, a tough S.W.A.T. officer who had made local headlines after he saved an entire family from a group of heavily armed thugs, Rena Del Toro, one of the toughest ladies David had ever met who had to work long and hard to get where she was, yet still got hassled by the other guys, Charles Grey, an older officer who was nearing retirement, but still in great condition for his age, and Omar Goods, a rookie who had only been on the beat for a few days and was already sent to man the frontlines, more proof that fat boy Irons was off his rocker.

David hoped he would be able to ride back to the station peacefully with the rest of these guys and hopefully had them all fully intact.

The R.P.D. had been called to form a barricade on Main St., where an entire group of unruly citizens had been reported rioting and even going as far as to eat their victims. This occurence was nothing new.

The other night there had been a riot at a Raccoon Sharks football game after an unruly fan stormed the field, resulting in an unknown amount of injured bystanders. There had also been several call-ins over the past few weeks of reported domestic disputes from all over the city which had involved family members attacking each other and reportedly trying to eat their own kin. Raccoon General was already overflowing with people injured in these disputes and the city morgue was piling up with the victims of random murders that had occurred around the city outskirts. Something did not make sense and the officers hoped they could eventually find out what was behind all of this madness and bring it to an end.

The officers stood poised and ready to fire when commanded. Their orders were to shoot on sight for these rioters had also been known to attack police. There were 20 uniformed officers present altogether along with the 15 S.W.A.T. team members, all armed with handguns ranging from Heckler & Koch, Brownings, Berettas, Colts, and powerful Magnums, to shotguns ranging from Benellis, Mossbergs, Remingtons, and SPAS-12s, to M-16, M-4, and MP-5 automatic weapons, to even a S.W.A.T. member carrying an HK-P grenade launcher. This was a battle they were prepared to win.

Snipers had also been placed around the perimeter armed with different brands of sniper rifles and perched on vehicles, rooftops, and nearby fire escapes ready to provide backup for their counterparts.

"They're coming!" shouted a sniper perched on a nearby fire escape into his radio, signaling for all of the officers on the ground to get ready.

It was then that David finally got a look at his assailants.

A large crowd of people began slowly marching towards the barricade from the opposite end of the street. In front of them were several frightened citizens running for their very lives hoping that the police officers would be able to protect them.

Immediately, S.W.A.T. captain Steve Porter raised a megaphone and called out to the fleeing civilians, "Attention all citizens! This is the Raccoon City Police Department! Due to the increasing violence we have been forced to shut down this part of the street! If you wish to reach the safe zone, you must be behind the barricade within three minutes and proceed to a designated safe shelter located at the First National Bank on Williamson St., or else we cannot guarantee your safety."

There had been about fifteen survivors in the small group rushing towards the barricade. Two of the S.W.A.T. officers at the front of the barricade quickly pulled aside one of the wooden barriers and allowed the frightened townspeople to pass through and then moved it back into place as quickly as they had opened it.

As the captain spoke, David managed to get a closer look at the large mob approaching them. He could see that they were all drunkenly staggering about. He also observed that the townspeople approaching ranged from all different shapes and sizes and to all different age groups, even small children and elderly adults were caught up in this mess! He could also see that they all bore distinctive bloodstains on their tattered clothing like they had all just been involved in a major fight.

David could not believe that he was actually going to have to open fire on these people.

"I can't just shoot these people. They have jobs and friends and families...Why must we end all of that right here right now?" he asked himself as he managed to calmly maintain his aim despite his reservations against firing upon seemingly unarmed civilians.

The mob approached further and David was able to make out more distinctive features of the people in the crowd. He could now see that all of them had skin peeling off of their bodies and some of them were even missing limbs and had internal organs hanging out, yet moved on like nothing had happened. 

"My god..." was all he could think to himself as he could make out their guttural growls and the putrid stench that seemed to emit from the crowd that could only be described as death.

A majority of the officers present suddenly grew pale upon spotting what they would be going up against and an eerie silence suddenly fell over the barricade, almost as if they believed this was going to be their last stand. David looked around at his comrades present and could see that a lot of them stood nervously with their weapons shaking in their hands. He looked over and saw Officer Cotter, who was making the Sign of the Cross and could be heard reciting his own last rites.

He then stole a peek at veteran officer Dan Minton, who held a picture of his family in his hand and stared down at it with an undescribable look of sorrow in his steely gray eyes. "I'm sorry Diana...Jessica...Patrick...I've failed all of you..." he muttered as he slowly placed the picture back into his pocket and raised his Beretta 9mm. Squinting at the man, David saw a tear forming in the corner of his eye.

Finally, he looked over to his buddy Grant and saw that his hands were shaking.

"How could he be nervous at a time like this?" David asked himself perplexed, "He's always so calm and cool under pressure...But then again, so am I and right now I'm as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs," he added.

He didn't blame any of them for their state of unease. With all the recent attacks occurring at random in the city, many officers had been lost in the skirmishes, not to mention a recent incident within the station walls when Officer Shawn Gallahan had come into work looking sick and attempted to bite into the front desk receptionist. In the very end, the officers had no other choice but to shoot the man to death. The young S.W.A.T. officer prayed he wouldn't have to do the same to any of the men and women who stood with him tonight.

The captain stood tall with his Colt M4A1 trained intently on the incoming mob. "Do not fire until I give the order!" he commanded as he set his sights on the nearest rioter, preparing to send yet another murderer straight to Hell where he belonged.

The rioters continued their approach towards the barricade stumbling drunkenly over one another, yet not being deterred as it seemed if they were after something important. Judging by recent incidents, ordering them to halt and surrender would have no effect on them. They would have to be dealt with using lethal force.

David leaned against the patrol car in front of him with his M4A1 at eye level, aiming at the rabid cannibals that drunkenly staggered towards him. As much as he hated to admit it, he was now slowly beginning to look forward to opening fire on these "things" and ending their murderous ways. He could see that these people were no longer the ordinary people he would meet down at the bars and shops or see walking the streets as if they didn't have a single care in the world. All of the beings present had all possibly murdered at least one innocent civilian unfortunate enough to cross their path. Something had to be done.

The thronging horde was now moving closer and closer to the barricade and with it, the captain motioned to the other officers.

"Everybody open fire now!"

There was a loud explosion created by the numerous firearms going off simultaneously. David immediately fired upon a man in a bloody yellow shirt, knocking him back several feet into another approaching cannibal. He could see that directly ahead of him several of the cannibals were dropping left and right.

"You're doing great boys! Keep up the good work!" Captain Porter shouted over the hail of gunfire as he dropped a scantily-clad woman with several shots to the chest. He then switched his sights and dropped a bald man with a well placed shot through his right eye and then dropped another with three shots to the stomach.

"Ha ha! Take that you rotting freaks!" Jim "Animal" Greene shouted as he blew off a cannibal's leg with a well-aimed shotgun blast and then dropped another with a blast that left a gaping hole in its chest.

Most of the cannibals had dropped to the pavement by now, lying in their own pools of blood. The officers were confident that they were going to be leaving the scene pretty soon and returning to their homes and families, that is until the unthinkable happened.

The cannibals that had been shot down began to slowly rise back to their feet, a sight straight out of the old horror movies. Some of the officers ceased firing their weapons and looked on in a shocked silence.

"What the hell is this?" Officer Elliot Edward cried as he observed something he had never seen before. The hardened captain too stood in stunned silence until he pinched himself, "Keep firing! Fire until those freaks are dead for good!" he cried and gunned down two approaching attackers.

The officers quickly resumed firing upon their advancing attackers, who trudged on persistently as if the bullets striking them were only mere mosquito bites. The cannibals pressed forward intent on their next meal managing to withstand bullets, shells, rifle casings, and even explosive shells being fired upon them, but they kept moving, driven by the virus within them.

"Something is wrong with these people," David thought to himself, "These people, they're oblivious to everything being fired at them, almost as if they're already dead. Could these people be zombies?" David thought to himself, not wanting to believe his own thoughts. He quickly snapped out of his train of thought and now thought up a new strategy. "These people must be zombies! Aim for their heads!" he tried to shout to the officers next to him over the thunderous booms of the shotguns and magnums mixed with the light popping of the automatics.

David quickly switched his rifle to burst mode and began firing at the zombies' heads, managing to drop two right away. He then lined up his sights and shot an overweight zombie in the throat, snapping off most of its neck and causing its head to droop off to the side, and then managed to drop six additional zombies with head shots before having to reload his rifle. The uniformed officers were firing sloppy shots with the intention of dropping their attackers, while his S.W.A.T. teammates were shooting to kill, managing to drop several with lethal headshots right away. The snipers above began to rain down lethal headshots when they spotted how effective it helped out their comrades down on the ground.

"Come get some!" Marvin Branagh cried as he fired shell after shell into the sea of undead from his Benelli shotgun. 

"Son of a bitch!" a S.W.A.T. officer shouted as he exhausted an entire rifle clip trying to take down three zombies at once.

"There's too many of them!" Meyer shouted realizing that he was wasting ammunition with every passing second.

"Don't give up!" Edward shouted as he dropped a zombie down to one knee with repeated shots from his Beretta.

"Eat this you undead freaks!" the S.W.A.T. member with the grenade launcher shouted as he fired numerous explosive rounds into the sea of undead pressing forth, yet his efforts proved to be futile.

Captain Porter was in between two patrol cruisers attempting to down several zombies with his M4A1 when he began backing up further and further until he stumbled backwards and fell into the open door of a patrol cruiser, knocking down a uniformed officer in the process.

"Oh shit! Get this thing off of me!" he screamed as he fired into the face of the zombie that fell on top of him. By now the zombies had reached the barricade and that was where the true horror would begin and images that would forever haunt David McGraw would be etched into his mind.

David stood back in horror as several zombies piled on top of Captain Porter and began tearing through his body armor and into his warm flesh, his terrified screams filling the air all the while they did it. Officer Patrick was next as a zombie tackled him from behind and sunk its teeth into the back of his neck, not even giving him a chance to cry out in pain.

Animal had used up all of his shotgun ammunition and was now down to using his sidearm Browning HP. He was in the middle of downing one zombie when another would lunge at him and grip onto his leg. He managed to shoot the creature in the head, but not before it tore an entire chunk out of his leg. Two more zombies then leapt onto him, one tearing into his throat, while the other clawed away at his intestines.

Uniformed officer Clarence Peterson had entirely run out of ammo and was now down to fighting the zombies with his nightstick when a large zombie managed to overpower him and bite into his neck, in the process tearing off most of the right side of his face. Nearby officer Jesse Archer had attempted to reach over and help his fallen comrade, only to have a crawling zombie reach out from underneath the patrol car in front of him and drag him under, tearing him to shreds.

Probably the worst casualty was that of a veteran officer named Gale Martinson, who fought valiantly blasting zombies all around him with his SPAS-12 pump-action shotgun, only to be overwhelmed by a small mob and have all of his limbs torn off, followed by his intestines being ripped out of his stomach, and then as a final insult, his heart being ripped from his chest.

"Fall back!" Marvin cried as he struggled to blast zombies in between loading fresh shells into his shotgun. He quickly decapitated a zombie that was just inches away from grabbing Ford and then fired another blast into a zombie that crawled towards him on the ground. He looked around to see that most of the surviving officers were still fighting the encroaching monsters, either not having heard his order to retreat, or were intent on fighting to the death with these monsters. Backing up, he bumped into a familiar face.

"Neil, come on! We have to get out of here!" he shouted to his fellow officer, who had picked up an MP5 from a dead S.W.A.T. officer and was blasting anything that came within five feet of him.

"Right!" Sgt. Carlsen replied, and the two began their retreat for sanctuary.

David now realized that the R.P.D. was fighting a hopeless battle and decided that it was time to retreat to the station. He tried desperately to convince some of his comrades to come along with him, but they were either unable to hear due to the roaring gunfire or intent on fighting to the death with the fearsome creatures. He could see Marvin, Ford, Meyer, Carlsen, and Edward all running away from the battle and tried to call out to them, but they were already halfway down the block by the time he began calling out.

The S.W.A.T. officer returned his attention to the carnage and saw Grant still firing upon the zombies, when he spotted another zombie dressed in an industrial jumper sneaking up behind him.

"Grant, look out!" he screamed, but it was too late.

The zombie grabbed Grant from behind and sunk its teeth into his shoulder. Grant cried out in pain, but had still managed to fight the creature off and send it flying to the ground and stomped its head in with his boot.

"Grant, come on! There's still time for you to escape!" David shouted to his friend as he rushed towards him, only to be stopped by the other officer raising his hand in protest.

"No! My time in this lifetime is over! Run away! Live! Avenge me! Avenge our comrades!" With those final words, Grant resumed his dramatic last stand against the zombies.

David stood silent in shock. He knew he did not want to heed his friend's warning, but he had to. Grant's time was over. He would soon be devoured by those inhuman beasts. Trying to drag him along would only slow him down. David was still healthy and he had a chance to escape and bring down the rest of these freaks and avenge his fallen comrades.

Snapping out of his trance, David whirled on the heel of his boot and began running towards the sanctuary of the police station. He ran as fast as he could, eager to get away from the gunshots, the groans and cries of hunger from the undead, the dying screams of his comrades, and the sound of flesh being torn and bones being broken. He had to get away from it all.

David McGraw ran back to the station with a purpose. He would avenge his fallen comrades by any means necessary and bring those responsible for this madness to justice.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Damn..." was all Jake could say after seeing what had just transpired on the street below. An entire platoon of highly-trained, heavily armed police officers had just been dismantled like they were nothing. Even though he did not hold police officers in the highest regards, he was still left speechless by the gory scene below, which was ten times worse than any of the previous full-scale gun battles he had been involved in the past. There had been several instances before in which he would waste an entire group of rival gang members with an assault rifle or some other kind of heavy artillery, but bulletholes were so clean compared to the messy bite marks zombies left behind on a fresh corpse. That was all Jake could think to himself as he spotted a wooden plank connecting the apartment rooftop he was currently on to the one next door to it.

Running across to the next rooftop he discovered yet another gruesome sight.

Laying before him against an air conditioning unit was the body of another S.W.A.T. officer. The man's flak jacket was covered in scratches, as was the black and blue uniform he wore underneath, the material covered in many red streams from the cuts all over his arms. The visor of the man's balaclava was cracked and covered in blood. Spent rifle casings and black feathers littered the surface around the dead officer's body. Inches away from the man lay a PSG-1 sniper rifle.

Jake picked up the rifle and gave it a thorough examination and tested the scope out before checking out the current clip to see that it still carried three bullets. Scanning the skies, the career criminal would soon find what murdered the S.W.A.T. officer.

With a seemingly malicious intent in their small, beady eyes, an entire murder of crows flew in Jake Cavanaugh's direction, letting out venomous caws as they dove down towards the human.

"Even the birds are affected by this shit? Damn, I'm not safe anywhere. Oh well, I'm not going to let those peckers slow me down. Heh heh!" he remarked to himself and took aim with the rifle. Jake crouched down to one knee and carefully positioned the rifle before searching for targets. Looking through the scope, he managed to spot one of the crows that flew dangerously low near him. Following the infected animal, he caught it in his crosshairs and pulled the trigger. The zombified crow let out a tortured squawk before it exploded in a mist of crimson liquid and feathers.

With one threat eliminated, Jake pulled back the bolt and searched for his next target. He looked up to see that one of the crows was diving head on at him, big mistake on the bird's part. Jake steadied his aim and fired another round, killing the next airborne critter instantly. The rifle held only one round now and the career criminal fired his last round, striking another low-flying crow, not killing it, but causing it to fall to the street below.

Several crows still flew overhead ready to move in for the kill. These critters were more of an annoyance than they were terrifying to the man and he threw the empty rifle aside and withdrew his dual Berettas. With some insane caws, they moved in for the kill.

Two crows flew at Jake from opposite directions, who would then raise his guns and drop both of them simultaneously. He quickly dropped another that was about to dive bomb him. He then shot a third crow and seriously injured it. He spotted a fourth crow that was about to charge at him, but he fired a round that ruffled some of its feathers and scared it away.

While Jake was preoccupied with the crows in front of him, another tried to sneak up on him. Seeing the undead critter from the corner of his eye, he quickly ducked before the crow's claws could connect with his head and then dove for cover behind an air conditioning unit. "Dammit, I have to get moving. I can't just sit here and waste my ammo with these little flying creeps. I have bigger fish to fry right now," he told himself as he could still hear the cawing of the crows. He looked forward and saw another apartment complex before him. Studying the building closer, he spotted a fire escape with an open window nearby. Studying the gap closer, he determined whether or not he would be able to make the jump. Right now, he didn't have too many other options and that open apartment seemed to be the closest he had to actual refuge right now.

Thinking of what possible protection he could receive from the apartment, Jake sprung to his feet and ran to the edge of the apartment rooftop. With all his remaining might, he leapt into the air and seemed to float for eternity. "Come on, let me reach the fire escape!" a small voice shouted inside his head. Any subliminal time stoppage ended as the career criminal felt his feet touch the hard metal of the fire escape.

"Shit!" Jake cried aloud as he rolled along the surface and was forced to grab one of the beams to keep himself from falling. He felt pain surge up and down his upper torso and legs as he laid on the surface and then struggled back to his feet. He opened his eyes to find himself standing just inches away from the open window he sought out. Behind him, he could still hear the cacophonous cawing of the zombified crows and the flapping of their wings. Holstering one of his pistols, he quickly leapt through the window and slammed it down behind him.

Jake let out a grunt as the crows flew down only to strike the closed window, "Fucking stupid..."

The temporary threat of the crows had subsided and for now things were quiet again. For now Jake could feel at ease and took in his surroundings. The window had led him into the bathroom of a small apartment that appeared to be in fine condition. The walls were painted a tranquilizing shade of light green and the floor was covered with simple black and white checker patterned linoleum. The cupboards were kept neat and orderly and several nicely decorated guest towels hung on the racks. The shower, toilet, sink, and shower/bathtub appeared to be spotless.

"Heh, not anymore," Jake said aloud as he threw off his filthy trenchcoat and undid the shoulder holster which held his magnum revolver. He walked over to the bathroom sink and removed his fingerless gloves.

It had been hours since he had last cleaned himself and right now he looked like he had just been trapped in the sewers. His rugged face was covered in filth and the dried blood of dispatched enemies. His usually spiked up hair had been matted down by sweat and now his long bangs hung down nearly covering his eyes. He turned on the warm water and splashed it in his face and grabbed the soap and proceeded to clean his face, neck, hands, and arms. Within seconds he looked normal again and grabbed his holster, gloves, and trenchcoat and once again withdrew his Beretta as he prepared to search the rest of the apartment.

With a twist of the knob, Jake gently eased the door open and then stepped out with pistol raised, searching all directions before stepping out and closing the door behind him. He found himself in a well-lit hall with ominous looking bloodstains covering the walls and carpet beneath him. He looked to his right and saw a door that he decided he would ignore for now. Right now he wanted to focus on following the trail of blood which led down the hall and through a walkway.

The walkway led into a ransacked living room.

"Man..." Jake quietly said observing his surroundings. Chairs had been overturned, the coffee table had been splintered, pottery had been smashed, a bookshelf had been knocked over, paintings had been torn off the walls, papers littered the floor, the phone lay broken in several pieces near the television set, a lamp had been knocked from its stand next to the couch and flickered on and off, and a fish tank had been smashed and several exotic fish lay motionless on the carpeted floor. Through all of the ruin, the career criminal spotted a window that had been smashed with blood running down the wall beneath it. The blood trail then led across the room to the front door, which had several large bloody handprints decorating it and the surrounding wall.

Another element would catch the career criminal's attention in the trashed living area.

Jake looked to a corner of the room to find a simple desk with a computer on it. The computer was still switched on and had the screensaver on, a familiar red and white symbol that danced across the screen.

The Umbrella Corporation's symbol!

He finally had a lead in all this madness. Jake quickly ran over to the computer and sat down, knocking over a small book that would also prove to be of use to his investigation. No ordinary person would use the symbol of an international pharmaceutical company as their screensaver, unless they worked for that company. Whoever the person who lived here was, there was a good chance that that person was probably an employee of Umbrella Inc., and furthermore, a possible link to William Birkin.

Jake had learned quite a bit about computer hacking during his days as a juvenile delinquent and it was a skill that served him well in his chosen criminal profession. Immediately he would fiddle around with the device before hacking into the tenant's account.

Through searching the man's e-mail inbox, he would learn that this apartment belonged to a man named Colin Leach and he searched every e-mail that the man had, which mostly turned out to be junk mail and random messages from the tenant's friends and family. As he neared the end, he finally found a message that would justify his suspicions. It was a message addressed to Mr. Leach from a co-worker, but not just any co-worker...

William Birkin.

"Birkin!" Jake shouted aloud. Without hesitation he quickly opened the document and read through it with undivided attention.

To: Colin Leach

From: William Birkin

Subject: G-Virus Experimentation For 9/30/98

Mr. Leach,

As you may know, I have scheduled another round of testing for my latest sample of the G-Virus. 

Apparently, my last round of experiments on our selected human guinea pigs produced some unwanted results that left them on the same level of deterioration as those who were originally subjected to the initial T-Virus. I studied the sample further and was able to determine that it still contained several flaws that left it in its failed state. For the last month I have worked diligently to synthesize a more highly-refined version and I think I might have finally hit pay dirt. Through extracting several recessive genes that I have determined were the main cause behind the mental and physical deterioration of those exposed to the T-Virus, I believe this next sample may greatly enhance a subject's physical attributes and heighten one's senses to near superhuman levels. Therefore, we could finally be able to produce a subject that can retain normal human functions within its mind and hopefully be able to prevent another Spencer Estate scenario.

I cannot wait to test this new sample on our plentiful test subjects we have located at our numerous facilities all over the world. There are numerous citizens who are bound to stumble across our facility near the city cemetery. Those who resist are to be shot on sight, those who surrender are to be arrested and transferred to our sewer facility for experimentation. We cannot let the public know of our top secret activities or else the company as we know it is finished. Any parties guilty of leaking this matter to the public are subject to immediate termination.

Maybe I have finally found the masterpiece that will put me on the scientific map of the world and I would like for you to be present as I demonstrate its sheer perfection. You are to be present on September 30 at 10:30 a.m., no sooner and no later. The facility will be under lockdown as the experiments are conducted, your safety is ensured.

Sincerely,  
William Birkin

"So the person who lives here is one of Birkin's lackeys," Jake thought to himself. He had found some evidence that Birkin might still be somewhere in the city. Judging by his tone, he sounded like somebody whose work meant everything to him and he would probably stay to complete his project no matter what the circumstances were, even in a scenario like this. He decided that he would need a copy of this letter and printed out an extra copy and shoved it into the envelope that had been sent to him by his mysterious benefactor.

Jake then picked up the small book he had knocked off of the desk and turned it over. The simple blue book had "Diary of Colin Leach" enscribed across it. "Hmm, maybe this joker has more clues to Birkin's whereabouts inside," he said to himself as he started paging through the small book and finally came across some entries that would prove to be of interest.

August 3, 1998

Tonight wasn't very eventful, aside from a game of Poker in the employee lounge with one of my colleagues Arnold, and two guards from the facility named Chuck and Blair. Chuck seemed like an all right guy, but that Blair looked like a sneaky little asshole and I suspect that he was trying to cheat during our game.

Things have been pretty quiet lately since that disaster up at the Spencer Estate facility. All I have to say right now is that I'm glad that I was transferred to the sewer facility or else I probably would have died on that very night. From what I heard, those S.T.A.R.S. people sure tore the place apart. They tried to go public with this whole deal, but thankfully the higher-ups have most of the city officials bribed around here or else we'd all probably be in jail right now.

I'm going to have to call my girlfriend Mary when this night is over with. I didn't get to speak to her much during my time at the Spencer Estate because the damned officials were so paranoid about us "leaking out sensitive information" to the outside world. Last I heard, she was away in Europe on business and might be coming back anytime now. I can't wait to hear from her again.

August 9, 1998

Well, here I am wallowing in my own self-pity after having my girlfriend of three years kick me to the curb.

I have no idea what the hell she was thinking. I finally got to see her for the first time in four months and now she tells me that I'm not the same person she fell in love with three years ago. Apparently I'm too much of a "workaholic" for her standards and hardly ever talked to her when I was at the estate facility. She needed to move on and find somebody who "had more time for her" and some other bullshit which I care not to mention right now. Like I had any other choice lady! I was confined to that place like a prison because the dumbass in charge was too paranoid about our secrets getting out to the public. 

I think I might have an idea of what's going on though. She probably doesn't want to be associated with me because I work for Umbrella Inc. after hearing about that incident at the mansion and several other supposed accidents that have occurred at other facilities around the country. Yeah, I'm aware that there might be some crazy shit going on at the other places around the country, but I'm not going to leave this company due to someone else's paranoia. I graduated from Raccoon University with a degree in biochemistry and Umbrella was the only company that offered me an opportunity. I am forever grateful for what they have done for me and I'm not going to leave them anytime soon!

August 12, 1998

Today things were kind of unusual at work. I was at my workstation when some creepy looking guy with snow white hair came down and visited the lab.

I have no clue who the guy was, but he was dressed like some kind of military type and he really seemed to be interested in viewing our specimens from previous experiments, kept going on about some kind of "field combat data" or something. I have no idea what he was talking about and frankly I would prefer not too.

Right now I really have to prepare myself for three days when we have our first tests conducted on human subjects. We have captured a bunch of homeless people from around the city and various other street scum that won't be missed by anybody. There have also been numerous local citizens who have stumbled across our secret facility near the cemetery, believing it to be an abandoned factory. We have captured most of them without incident. However, there have been a few that were bold enough to try to escape, only to be shot down by the facility guards. Mr. Birkin is really looking forward to these experiments and doesn't seem to care much about possible consequences. He is truly fanatical about his work.

August 15, 1998

As I write these words, I can be nothing but thankful to be alive.

I arrived at work and was immediately assigned to the Level B-4 testing facilities where I met with Dr. Birkin and the rest of my team. The entire area was under lockdown as the proceedings began. Our first subject we injected the virus into was some homeless drifter from out of state. The man tried to put up a fight, but our guards were too much for him. Throughout the day, we injected more and more subjects, until they started to display symptoms of the cannibal disease that appeared in the T-Virus carriers and began attacking the members of my team. Not only that, but one of the subjects escaped our lab and managed to release some of the reptilian "Hunter" creatures as they have been dubbed by several staff members, from their cages and they killed a whole bunch of the security staff members, including that asshole Blair.

After a full-scale sweep of the facility, the company's special forces soldiers managed to eliminate all of the creatures present. Several staff workers were injured and even more were killed. The company is going to have a heyday trying to explain to their families what really happened. Me, right now I just want to mentally escape everything I saw today and after I get done writing this, I'm heading to Bar Jack to drown my troubles away.

August 21, 1998

The fallout from the big catastrophe of six days ago still lingers within the steel walls of our underground facility. Security has been beefed up big time and they've been acting extremely paranoid when workers with anything below Level 4 clearance go within fifty feet of the holding pens. Hell, just yesterday they frisked a janitor for walking past a room holding some experimental Re3's and I swear they would have killed him if our supervisor wouldn't have stepped in and saved him from certain doom.

I even feel the need to carry a gun on me when I go down there now. Those creatures are not a pretty sight and will try to kill anything that goes anywhere near their cages. I don't know what to do, but all I know is that I have a job to do down there and I have to be around them whether I like it or not.

August 30, 1998

Saw my buddy Miles at work today. Haven't seen the man in weeks, been really busy juggling his highly demanding work schedule, along with a wife and three kids and a dying father who could go at any time now. He's not the usual joke cracking wise as I know him to be. Not only does he have his mental and social problems to deal with, but physically something looks seriously wrong with him.

The man looked like one of the living dead. His skin has taken a really ominous pale cast to it, not to mention it was peeling on him. A large chunk fell off when he scratched his forearm. His eyes were dilated and he almost wreaked of decay. He was really run down and could barely stay awake while we chatted. The last straw came when he threw up all over the table we sat at.

I told him he should probably go home and get some rest. I sure hope he's all right.

September 2, 1998

I don't want to believe it, but I have to. Miles is dead.

I don't know what could have made him do it, but apparently his wife must have gone to wake him up and as soon as she entered their bedroom, he lunged at her and tore her throat out. That wasn't the end of it.

He ripped his father apart pretty bad and then bit his oldest daughter when she tried to pry him away. He then killed his middle child and started chewing away at him like the poor kid was a homemade morsel.

The police were summoned to his house and tried to subdue him, but he nearly tore one of their arms off. When he wouldn't comply with their demands, they were forced to shoot him to death. From what I heard, they shot him a whole bunch of times, but he still kept coming. It finally took a single bullet to the head to drop him for good.

Man, I'm still in shock as I write this. I've known Miles for ten years and in those ten years he had become like a brother to me. We did everything together. I was the best man at his wedding, I was the godfather for all three of his children, we always went on fishing trips along the Marble River together. He was probably one of the nicest, most caring individuals I have ever known. I can't believe he could do such a thing.

After I'm done writing this and get my bills paid, I'll probably go visit his kid in the hospital and see how she's holding up. The youngest child is staying with relatives in Delucia and right now police are interrogating his closest friends and co-workers. I have an appointment there tomorrow at high noon. I just hope I can keep my cool, the last time I was in a police station it was because I got busted for getting into a fight with some tough guy plumber in front of J's Bar seven years ago.

September 8, 1998

Dammit, I have to start my day off with a freaking headache! This is just great!

I've been feeling like shit all day. Right away I woke up feeling like I got struck in the head by a baseball bat and nearly fell over when I was at L'Amour's today. Not only that, I came home and spent nearly an hour puking my guts out and discovered a large rash on my left hand that I'm still struggling to hold back on scratching as I write this.

It's funny because I was just fine yesterday, I was even listed as being in great health during my last checkup and told that I have a very high immunity rate since I've hardly gotten sick in the last year. I sure hope these pills I've taken help.

Oh well, a nice warm cup of hot cocoa, stretching out on the sofa and watching some Letterman, and a good night's rest should help me out.

September 10, 1998

I don't know what's wrong with me, but I'm still feeling like shit. That rash on my left hand has just gotten worse and now it's spreading up my entire arm. My arm feels like it's on fire and I just ripped off an entire chunk earlier today.

In addition to my skin problems on my arm, now I have this huge blister on my right ankle. It hurts like a bitch when I walk and I swear I nearly screamed my lungs out when I bumped it against one of the doors on the city bus I took to the downtown library today. I'm thinking maybe I should just get my foot amputated, save myself the troubles.

Ugh, I'm still fighting off the urge to vomit too. I had trouble sleeping all night last night and had to call in sick today. With the recent incidents at the lab and Miles dying just eight days ago, we can't afford to have a bunch of people not show up for work. Our operations here are going to Hell in a handbasket.

Jake finally came to the last diary entry and could barely make any of the words out. They looked like they had been scrawled by a toddler and he was forced to squint before he could finally make them out.

Sepptimber 2000 199

MuSt goH...WeRk to day...SeE KiTTy cat outside...Luk tasTEE...Me...Eat...

The entry ended right there and the page was covered by specks of dried blood and almost ripped out of the book, suggesting that Mr. Leach must've been in the process of transforming into one of the undead as he wrote these words. Whoever this person had been, he was probably as good as dead right now, but Jake had found a link to William Birkin, proving that the scientist must have still been within the city limits. He decided to take the diary with him.

Jake decided that he would now search the rest of the apartment. Walking into Colin Leach's bedroom, he immediately discovered several bloody articles of clothing strewn about the room and found a dresser with several of the drawers ripped out and laying haphazardly around the room. A nightstand next to the messy bed had been knocked over with the contents spilling onto the floor next to it. Through the mess of papers, photographs, and other useless trinkets Jake spotted an item of interest.

A red and black Umbrella keycard that was similar to the one he had received in the envelope from his mysterious benefactor.

Seeing it as an item that could be of use in case he had to explore one of the city's facilities, he quickly swiped up the card, which bore the words "LEVEL 4" and had all of Mr. Leach's personal information typed on the back. He pocketed the keycard and searched through the rest of the room and found nothing of interest. He remembered that he had not searched the kitchen yet and feeling his stomach ache remembered that he needed another meal.

Moving into the small kitchen, he found another disaster zone. The black and white checkered tiling that matched that of the bathroom's floor was covered in more blood and the career criminal was able to make out bloody footprints that led to the living room. Several wine bottles had been smashed on the floor, making it hard to tell the wine apart from the blood. Pots and pans littered the floor, as did several broken glasses and sharp kitchen knives. He had to watch where he stepped as he made his way over to the refrigerator and opened in search of a quick meal.

He looked inside to find a large bottle of Mountain Brew soda and a box of Hot Pockets aside from several other foods that probably would have required more time to make. He threw some pizza stuffed Hot Pockets into the microwave and cooked them for several minutes before they were good to go. Once finished, he plopped down onto a wooden chair and slowly ate his meal, wanting to be able to savor the warm juiciness of the Hot Pockets and the thirst-quenching citrus taste of the soda. He then devoured a Mixx candy bar and sat back for a while to relax his tired muscles.

The loud wham of the front door being struck snapped the career criminal out of a near slumber.

"Time to go," he said aloud and pulled out one of his Berettas.

The pounding on the front door could be heard throughout the small apartment as Jake slowly approached the door, waiting for the zombie to break it down in case it were alone, if not he could just draw them out into the open living room and eliminate them one by one. He took a position near one of the armchairs and raised his gun to fire.

Frustrated moans boomed from the other side of the door as it appeared that the zombie was throwing its entire body against the wooden surface. The creature pounded away and the sound of its claws scratching at the surface forced the young man to press his palms to his ears in an effort to shut out the noise. Finally, with a last desperate attempt the zombie threw it self against the door, falling flat on its face as it brought the door straight down. Jake walked up to the creature as it tried to rise back to its feet and fired a round into its brain, forever silencing it.

Jake checked over his current clip and then hugged the wall along the small entranceway and within a few seconds peeked his head out to see a few zombies standing around absentmindedly, but were far enough away where they wouldn't be an immediatel threat. Noting this, the young criminal stepped out into the hallway with gun raised and slowly approached a stairwell when the loud ding of a nearby elevator caught his attention.

Turning around, Jake found himself ambushed by another group of zombies that nearly leapt out of the small car once they spotted him. He quickly looked down the hall to see that the loud ding had also caught the attention of the zombies down the hall and they began their charge as well.

"Dammit!" he shouted aloud as the group barred access to the stairs and began firing into the crowd. Several zombies had emerged from nearby opened apartments and began their pursuit of Jake. They were backing him into a corner as he fired round after round into the crowd of undead. He quickly looked over his shoulder to see a window behind him. With no other options he brought his foot back and smashed the small window open.

Distancing himself from the zombies, Jake looked out the window to see an empty alley below that was a few stories down. To his immediate left he saw a rickety old steam pipe that threatened to break at any second. He looked back to see the zombies converging upon him and then looked back at the steam pipe. He didn't have much choice right now and quickly grabbed onto the old pipe and prepared for the long ride down.

Using his gloves to protect his hands, the career criminal quickly slid down the pipe like a firefighter sliding down to get its gear. He could only pray to whatever was out there that the pipe did not give as he slid down. He shut his eyes and held on for dear life as he felt the pipe shaking underneath his weight. Much to his horror, the pipe finally gave and he suddenly felt weightless.

"Oh shit!" he cried.

Jake fell through the air and could only picture striking the cold, unforgiving pavement below. He awaited the sweet embrace of nothingness as he seemingly floated like a feather, the chemicals in his brain creating the illusion of time slowing down around him. "This must be what it feels like to stand at Death's door," was all the career criminal could think to himself as his life was seemingly about to end.

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CRASH!

The sound of glass shattering and other objects giving way to the weight of a falling body filled the alleyway.

Jake Cavanaugh fell from the air and landed in a dumpster beside the building, landing in a pile of trash that broke his fall.

"Ahh!" he cried as he felt the pain surge throughout his body. He had shot his eyes open expecting to see either the pearly white gates of Heaven, or the rusted gates of Hell, but he could still feel pain. He must have still been alive. He had to be because he could still smell the rotting stench of death in the air, hear the torturous moans of the undead, and feel the taste of warm red blood in his mouth.

"Shit..." Jake spat and with all his energy forced himself to sit up, only to cry out in pain again. "God dammit!" he grunted as he was forced to pop his shoulder back into place and moved his arm around a little more before he could attempt any effort to reach out and try to climb his way out of the dumpster. He managed to peek his head out of the dumpster and spat some blood onto the pavement before he again attempted to climb out. After several minutes of struggling he finally lifted one leg out of the dumpster and then managed to pull himself entirely from the dumpster, sinking to the ground on his hands and knees.

"This is the last time I accept a job from a "mysterious benefactor." No matter how generous their offer is, the next time one comes my way, I'm gonna tell him to go fuck himself," the gruff criminal swore as he fought to pull himself back to his feet. He was still in too much pain to stand upright, so he used his shotgun as a crutch and slowly moved towards the end of the alley. 

Reaching the end, he found yet another street populated by zombies, but directly in front of him he found a welcome sight. "A gun shop!" he said aloud.

Before him stood the Kendo Gun Shop, a welcome sight in all of this madness where he could stock up on any available weapons and ammunition. He couldn't get his hopes too far up though. He knew that in a situation like this, a gun shop is the first place a lot of frightened townspeople would run to looking for weapons to defend themselves with. He would probably also find another survivor or two present and maybe some other supplies for use. He had to move as quickly and as quietly as he could in order to avoid arousing attention from the distant zombies. Once he was directly in front of the shop's entrance he threw himself at the door and slammed it shut behind him.

Jake breathed an extra sigh of relief, only to hear the sound of a pumping shotgun come from behind.

Author's Note: If anybody on here has read one of my previous fanfics entitled "Tale of the Unknown Survivors," you would immediately recognize the barricade scene. I decided to incorporate it for upcoming storyline purposes and also to make it better than before. Until next time, read and review! 


	8. Chapter 7: Nightmares Come To Life

Darkness Arises by E-Z B

Author's Note: Hey everybody, I'd like to say thanks to those of you who have followed this fic so far. I just want you to know that out of all the fics, this is probably the one I have the most ideas for and at the moment it's at the top of my priorities list. I also wanted to take the time to shout out to a few people on here:

Noctorro - You're probably one of my top critics, but at the same time one of my biggest supporters and I have to say thanks for everything. The apartment Jake was in was not the Apple Inn, but a random apartment complex. Despite the "Hellfire" level being a bitch in "Outbreak," Apple Inn was probably one of my favorite levels design-wise and I like to think of that place when I design trashed sites for RE fics. For all you Jake Cavanaugh fans, check out "ACT 5: Biohazard: World of the Undead - File 2," he makes a guest appearance in that fic.

Terry - You're another big supporter of mine. It was reading your original "Dark Nights" fic that helped me get into writing fics in the first place and now your stuff has gotten even better. For all you hardcore RE buffs on this site, I reccommend checking out his fic "Three Days In A Nightmare," definitely a GOOD read.

smilesK and JBabeJanice - Your idea of adding a detective character from Jake's past is indeed a very interesting idea, I will take it into consideration.

TylerD - Oh you're going to see more zombie creatures all right in upcoming chapters! Along with some original monster designs and some that might be inspired from a little known RE Half-Life mod known as "Resident Evil - The Escape."

KiaGirl07 and anybody else who loves the GTA-RE crossover concept - I might plan on including Jake in some more Grand Theft Auto and Street Fighter fics in the future, so keep your eyes peeled.

Now on with the story!

Chapter 7: Nightmares Come To Life

The pumping of a shotgun came from behind Jake as he entered the shop.

"All right, drop your weapon and turn around slowly!" a gruff voice with traces of a southern drawl called out.

"Whoever this guy is, I can take him if he tries anything funny," Jake thought to himself. He slipped back into his "frightened outsider" character, dropping his gun to the floor and then slowly turning around with his hands raised in the air. Before him stood the frightened shop owner, a burly, middle-aged man with short, greasy dark brown hair, bloodshot brown eyes, and a five o'clock shadow. He wore filthy blue jeans, a sweat-stained white t-shirt, and red suspenders. Looking closer, Jake spotted a blood-stained bandage on the man's left forearm and several specks of blood decorating his already filthy t-shirt. Either he had cut himself in an accident, or he had been bitten by one of the zombies outside. In his grubby hands he held a Remington 1100 pump-action shotgun that he had trained on the career criminal's chest.

"All right boy, I'm gonna ask this once. Who are ya' and what are ya' doin' here?" the owner demanded, his aim never wavering as he spoke.

This guy must have been on the edge of his sanity. Jake would have to choose his words carefully.

"Hold your fire! I'm a human!" he shouted raising his hands, "I'm here seeking shelter from those zombies out on the streets and I need some ammunition," he calmly explained trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. He made sure to stand near his handgun in case he would have to trade fire with the seemingly unstable owner.

The owner remained silent, staring intently at Jake. It seemed as if he wasn't going to lower his weapon right away and was probably ready to fire at any second. To him, the man who had just entered his shop looked like yet another thug off the streets who would probably try to beat him up and steal what little ammunition he had left. When the random murders began occurring around town, nearly half the city had shown up demanding guns and ammunition, nearly depleting his stock. Just hours ago, two desperate thugs had shown up trying to loot his remaining stock, but they had both found themselves on the bad end of his shotgun and were sent back onto into the streets with those "things" outside.

"Again, I'm not here to hurt you!" Jake shouted, "I needed to get away from those things and get some damned ammo. If you're not going to help, then I'll just move along and leave you here to be torn apart by those freaks outside! Now what's it going to be?"

The owner took a step back, touched by the young criminal's sudden outburst. He remained silent for a few additional seconds before he finally lowered his gun, "Whew! Sorry about that," he said placing the shotgun on the counter and pulling up a stool. "I thought you were either some brute off the streets trying to rob me, or one of those undead freaks looking for a meal."

"What's going on in this town?" Jake asked playing dumb like an ordinary civilian would.

"I don't have a clue, son. By the time I noticed something was wrong, the whole city was crawling with zombies. I had a few of those rotting bastards try to eat me out front and I've already sold out nearly all of my inventory to the locals. Not only that, I haven't heard from my brother nor other family or friends throughout the day. I just hope the boys back at the R.P.D. can do something to get this mess taken care of. Call in the freaking National Guard if they have to!" the man said rubbing his tired face and scratching his heavy stubble.

"Man, that sounds seriously fucked up," Jake replied picking up his handgun from the floor and approaching the counter. The counter itself was covered in empty weapon cases and miscellaneous papers. The cases behind the owner had been smashed and the contents were missing. Next to the man sat a half empty bottle of whiskey and a nearly empty pack of cigarettes. After taking a long chug from the bottle the owner was ready to get down to business.

"So you said ya' needed ammo, what kind of gun?"

Jake pulled out his SPAS-12 shotgun, "I got this bad boy with me. I've wasted a lot of ammo blowing away those zombie freaks out on the streets and let me tell you, those zombies aren't the only things crawling around out there. Apparently dogs and birds are affected by whatever the hell is going on out there too, not to mention some eight foot tall freakazoid with a rocket launcher that tried to blow me and a bunch of other people from here to the moon just hours ago."

The owner only whistled and reached beneath the counter to pull out an extra case of shotgun shells, "Here ya' go kid, I'm sorry, but this is all I've got left for SPAS-12 shells. I'd take all I could if I were you. Is that shotgun the only thing you have on you right now?"

Jake pulled out both Berettas and show them to the owner and then reached for his shoulder holster and produced his magnum, "Here, satisfied?"

"Damn, that's one heavy looking magnum you're carrying son! You'd think that someone as well armed as you would be able to easily survive this shithole," the owner remarked as he studied the S&W M629C closely.

"Heh, yeah I sure hope so..." Jake trailed off, remembering the massacre from Main St., where he witnessed police officers armed with all sorts of shotguns, magnums, submachine guns, and assault rifles fail to stop an advancing horde of the undead.

"Take 'em kid," the shop owner said pushing the case towards the young career criminal, "they're free this time. You'll need 'em out there on these damned streets."

"Thanks...Ugh!" Jake suddenly felt a sharp pain jab him in the side like a sharpened spear and he slouched over the countertop. The pain he felt from his fall came back to haunt him.

"Are you all right boy?" the owner asked trying to reach for him, but Jake brushed his hand away.

"I sort of...Took a fall on my way over here..." he grunted forcing a pained grin. He held his side and braced himself against the counter to avoid falling over.

"Well it must've been pretty bad," the owner reached into his first-aid kit and pulled out a can of Umbrella first-aid spray and quickly ran over to the younger man, "Hold tight kid, this might burn a little," he said as he helped Jake remove his trenchcoat. With the young man buckled over before him, he sprayed the man's upper torso and all of his arms and legs and then gave a quick spritz to the back of his neck.

"Ugh! Thanks!" Jake grunted as he felt the spray immediately take effect, soothing his aching muscles and clotting any open wounds he had sustained in the fall. He soon took a couple deep breaths and within minutes was standing upright again. "Thanks Mr.?"

"Kendo. Robert Kendo," the shop owner finished offering his hand.

"Jake. Jake Smith," he returned using his alias, "Thanks for your help, Mr. Kendo. Look, if you want to live you should probably come with me," he couldn't believe he was saying this, but he had to sound concerned in order to sound more believable. In part, he actually did show some genuine thanks for this man for what he had just done for him, but he still didn't need another person slowing him down and secretly hoped that he would stay behind. "I'm heading for the police station and I'm going to round up any other survivors I possibly can and bring them along. If you stick close to me you should be all right."

Kendo looked at Jake good and hard, "I thank you for your offer kid, but there are still townspeople wandering around on the streets as we speak. They will need protection. I think I'm going to stay here and continue to distribute weapons to any other survivors out there."

Jake nodded in acknowledgment. He smiled on the inside because he could still travel about without arousing suspicion, yet at the same time he wished this man luck. Kendo was probably going to die staying in one place for too long, yet at least he would die a noble death unlike some people in this city have and even the hardened career criminal had to respect his decision. "All right, I'll be moving on then."

"There's a back door that should take you to an alley. Follow it through a basketball court and then maneuver your way around some side alleys and then you should be on Stratford Ave."

"All right, thank you Mr. Kendo," Jake said with a nod and proceeded out the shop's back door.

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The back alley wreaked of garbage and only the sound of water dripping could be heard. Finally, something to replace the smell of death and the moans of the undead was all Jake could think to himself as he moved slowly through the alley with handgun raised. A normal individual would be hit by pangs of guilt after choosing to leave Robert Kendo alone in the gun shop to fend for himself, but the man looked tough enough to take care of himself. He didn't appear to be on the very bright side though, which could lead to his downfall if he's not careful.

Rounding the corner, a white van labeled "Kendo Gun Shop" blocked Jake's access to the street beyond, adding some meaning as to why he mentioned the basketball court. Chances were some of those zombies probably tried sneaking in through the back alley and the van was there to hold them off. Putting those thoughts at the back of his mind, the young career criminal moved through the graffiti covered basketball court and through the nearby alley. In the distance he could hear more moans.

"Here we go again," he said quietly as he opened the metal gate in front of him.

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Footsteps.

They were light, but they could be heard from a mile away and they were right below.

The creature heard the footsteps coming from nearby and had to get closer. It quickly scaled across the rooftop and climbed down the side, making sure to stay high enough where it would still be concealed in the shadows.

The creature could not see the target physically, but it possessed near superhuman hearing, and smell as well, a smell which excited the being greatly.

Fresh meat.

That was all the creature could think about as it scaled the apartment building and leapt to a smaller complex to listen further to its newly intended prey, which now moved quickly through an empty alley and pounded the metal steps of a nearby fire escape.

Other living beings could be sensed nearby, but they were already dead and the flesh of the dead did not taste as well as that of a still breathing human.

The creature let out a throaty hiss and wagged its long tongue excitedly through the air, dripping saliva onto the ground below.

Sensing the presence of its brothers nearby, the creature called out to them and they quickly appeared next to it. It motioned for its brothers to follow as the being could still hear the footsteps of its human prey.

Still listening to the footsteps of its soon-to-be meal, the creature leapt into the air with inhuman strength and landed on a rooftop across from it with the grace of a feline. It crawled quickly across the rooftop and leapt into the air again, this time landing on the water tower of the adjoining rooftop and clinging to it like Spiderman.

Gunshots suddenly filled the air, followed by the thuds of dead bodies striking the concrete. It could sense that the still breathing human had survived whatever it had encountered and continued moving.

The creature hissed deeply in anticipation. It loved a meal that played hard to get and signaled to its brothers.

The hunt was on!

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With a heavy heave, Jake pushed the large bookshelf in front of the back door of the small office he had just entered. Zombies had been hot on his trail and he needed to lose them fast, so he immediately ducked in through a door that had not been boarded up in the alley he had just raced through.

After making his way through the small basketball court, he had found himself climbing up a small fire escape and then rounding a building to make his way into another alley full of zombies. There had been seven of them altogether and relying on a combination of his lightning-quick reflexes and dual Berettas, he had plowed through his undead adversaries John Woo-style.

Proceeding through another gate, he had found himself on Stratford Ave., yet another total mess. An outdoor restaurant had been torn apart and the corpses of several patrons were still present, rotting in the nighttime air. Several cars had smashed into each other or were implanted in the sides of the buildings, including a city bus which had completely demolished the entire front end of a small theater. Another zombie feast was occurring nearby as four zombies tore into the body of what appeared to be another police officer and appeared to take up too much space to get around. Jake had already disturbed several undead meals earlier tonight and did not need more problems. 

Looking off to his right he found another escape route and tried to run, only to encounter yet another mob as he passed a ransacked boutique and was forced to make another detour.

Moving to his left he found several boarded up doors and one fancy looking door in the decrepit alley that strangely appeared to be untouched and quickly ran to it and now found himself in his current position.

Listening to the exasperated moans of his would-be attackers outside, Jake realized that he would have to search this place he had entered fast before they broke the door down.

The room Jake now stood in appeared to be a dimly-lit office that looked like it belonged in a Victorian mansion. The only light in the room came from a small candelabra-style fixture that hung on the wall above a finely crafted mahogany desk that displayed several pictures of an elderly man posing with young adults and children, whom he assumed was probably the owner and his family. An antique grandfather clock stood nearby against a wall covered with blue wallpaper that shown off intricate Ming vase-like designs that looked like they belonged in a Chinese temple, contrasting with several western European impressionist paintings that covered them. The eastern wall of the room was decorated by a stuffed deer head, plaques and certificates, a model ship in a bottle, and a Wild Western buffalo rifle that was probably empty. A sofa and chair were present on both sides of the wall that contained the entrance into the adjoining shop room.

The main shop room would have been a burglar's dream come true.

Judging by the items present, Jake had obviously wandered into an antique shop that contained items from all over the world. The cases on the wall displayed pottery and jewelry that must have been over a century or two old, along with statues, paintings, books, and clocks that must have been even older. Several far Eastern swords lined one wall mixing with western pistols and rifles, all of which were probably of no use in a situation like this. He could be proven wrong though as he spotted an item of interest that stood directly in front of him.

Before the career criminal, an impressive katana sword rested on a rack in one of the display cases. Its black metallic sheath was lined with elaborate designs of red dragons and gold Japanese lettering. An inscription beneath the blade stated that it was originally a souvenir from a western diplomat who visited Japan during the Bakumatsu Period of the mid-1860's. Truly a magnificent specimen Jake thought to himself. An item of such worth would truly sell for a lot of cash on the black market, as would any of the other items in this store, but right now that was not his main priority. Still, he felt drawn to the blade and had an impulse to check it out for himself.

Remembering previous experiences in armed robbery, the career criminal knew that a lot of stores kept their security control panels near the register and just as he expected he found the box beneath the cash register. Pulling out his lockpick, he fiddled around with the box's padlock for a few seconds before the lock came undone and he grabbed a nearby set of wire cutters and disconnected the building's security system. He knew that it probably would not be necessary in a situation like this due to most of the city's remaining police force being occupied by their battle with the undead, but he still did not want to attract the attention of any zombies nor any other crazies that could be out on the streets tonight.

Jake said nothing as he approached the sword and removed it from its rack and closely inspected the scabbard for himself. Taking great care he slowly removed the blade and examined it. Despite being well over one hundred years old, the blade looked like it had been greatly cared for and still appeared to be sharpened. He tested the blade's weight and speed with a couple practice slashes and then with the ability of a true samurai, twirled the blade before slapping it back into its sheath.

"I think I'll be taking this bad boy with me," he smirked as he made his way for the exit.

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The creature hissed deeply in anticipation. It had found its prey! This hunt had been exciting and now the creature was determined to bring it to an end once and for all.

It once again wagged its tongue in the air excitedly as it thought of sinking its teeth into the human that had been eluding it and its brothers for so long. The creature peeked its head over the concrete railing as it listened more closely for its intended victim. Judging by the gunfire it heard earlier, it could tell that this next target would be more of a challenge.

Within its limited thought capacity, the creature managed to remember its last few victims, weak targets whom had been killed with great ease and not provided much of a challenge. This new target was different, it was strong, fast, and more cunning than what the creature had encountered before.

The sound of a bell ringing followed by a door slamming shut echoed from the street below, followed by the pounding of shoes on the pavement.

The creature again hissed with excitement. Its prey had come out of hiding and now was the time to strike.

With superhuman strength, the creature launched itself into the air.

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Jake stepped back into the street with shotgun drawn. It was now eerily quiet. No moans, no cawing of crows, nothing being smashed, just the wind blowing through the air. This was strange indeed the career criminal thought to himself as he slammed the antique shop's front door behind him and was preparing to run, until he heard a ragged, raspy gulp for air from above.

"What was that?" Jake asked aloud as he came to a complete stop and pumped his shotgun and pointed it above. "I heard something. It sounded like an old man's dying breath," he quietly observed wishing he had a torch mounted to his gun.

His question was about to be answered.

A shadowy blur darted across the building's facade, prompting the young man to nearly open fire. He held back, knowing that the target was out of range and moved too quickly to be nailed with a shotgun, that and he also wanted to get a good look at his new "visitor."

With astounding speed, a large figure flew through the air and landed on the ground in front of the career criminal.

"What on God's green earth?" he gasped aloud as he slowly backed up from the hideous monstrosity that had just approached him.

Before Jake lay a freak that looked like something straight out of a child's nightmare. The creature appeared to look like a human being that had been literally turned inside out, roughly the size of a full-grown man with razor-sharp ivory talons that clicked on the pavement beneath it. Its brain lay partially exposed above scar-rimmed holes where its eyes should have been. Beneath it was a mouthful of equally menacing fangs that gave it the appearance of a shark, complimented by a long snaking tongue that uncoiled and whipped from side to side. To call it a mockery of nature was an understatement, it had to be a demon straight from blackest Hell.

"What the hell are you?" Jake seemingly asked the creature as he backed up in shock. To the few who knew him best, he could be described as a man with ice water running through his veins, a man who seemed to be desensitized to all the violence around him. Right now however, he displayed a look of near horror as he fought to comprehend what stood before him. He truly would have laughed it off if you told him such creatures existed, but before tonight he would have laughed off the existence of the undead and eight foot tall demons with bazookas as well. He could not let something as petty as fear overcome him or he would certainly be killed.

The creature stood perched before him on all fours and crawled slowly towards him before it let out another ragged hiss and shot its tongue out at the career criminal, missing his feet by mere inches.

"Holy shit!" he blurted aloud as he observed the crack left in the concrete by the demonic mutant. The thing appeared to be sharper than a lance, one strike could mean the end. He quickly raised his shotgun and fired at the creature.

The creature leapt out of the way with lightning speed and latched itself onto the brick exterior of a nearby tattoo shop and quickly scuttled along the surface before it let out another hiss and launched itself towards Jake with claws extended.

"Son of a bitch!" Jake cried before he barely managed to roll out of the way just in time. He heard a tear and looked down to see that the creature had caught a small portion of his trenchcoat as he rolled, indicating how close it was to decapitating him. He realized that if he wanted to beat this abomination, he was going to have to be very quick on his feet.

Dropping to one knee with his right leg up, Jake fired another shot at the creature and struck it in its side. The creature squealed in pain as the shell exploded against its side, leaving it open for another attack. The career criminal pumped his shotgun and fired another round into the creature, rewarded with a sickening splat as it tore more flesh away from the creature's body, but yet it still lived. With its remaining strength, the creature flipped over onto its claws and took another swipe with its tongue, nearly striking Jake's shoulder. Despite its weakened state, the creature did not give up pursuit of its adversary and would not go down without a fight. It was time to show no mercy.

Jake chambered another shell and fired again, this time striking the beast he now called a "Licker" in its left shoulder. The creature let out another gut-wrenching squeal and tried in vain to crawl towards its prey. It moved around like a bird with its wings clipped and now was time to finish it off.

Chambering another round, Jake looked grimly at the creature and the boom of his shotgun filled the air. The Licker's head exploded in a crimson mist.

"Goddamn..." he muttered staring at the dead creature, "I wouldn't doubt that this isn't Umbrella's doing," he said loading some fresh shells into his shotgun. More throaty hissing and clicking of sharp nails on the asphalt could be heard. "Here we go again," Jake said to himself and then looked up to find four additional Lickers hovering over him ready to strike.

Uttering a primordial battle cry, the first Licker of the group leapt out at Jake with its right arm drawn backwards, ready to slash forward and cut him down the center of his chest.

"Fuck!" Jake cried and quickly rolled off to the side. Laying on his back, he pumped a round into the creature's side, shattering several of its ribs. Rushing back to his feet, he fired another round into the Licker's back, destroying its spinal cord. The creature was not dead, but it spasmed on the ground unable to move and would eventually die within minutes from blood loss.

Another red blur dashed past Jake as he had just eliminated the previous Licker and was followed by a cracking sound. He looked before himself dumbfoundedly at his assault shotgun. A second later, the weapon fell to pieces.

"Damn..." he looked to his right to spot the perpetrator clinging to the awning of a flower shop with its tongue sticking halfway out, small bits of the shotgun's material dripping off of the moist surface. "No time to spare, freak!" Jake said aloud withdrawing his dual Berettas and firing several rounds at the creature causing it to jump away. As soon as he stopped firing, the creature again leapt at him.

"Go to Hell!" he shouted as he raised both guns in front of him and unloaded both clips into the creature as it remained airborne, smacking it around wildly before a single round caught the creature in its brittle skull, sending it sagging to the ground below.

The fourth Licker scaled the surface of an apartment complex overhead. Jake raised his guns to fire, but they clicked empty. With no time to reload, he reached down into his shin holster and withdrew his combat knife. He waited for the creature to get low enough and with a mighty toss and pinpoint accuracy, struck the creature in its brain and let it fall to the ground dead.

A ragged gasp came from behind the career criminal and he turned around to see that it was now down to him and the final Licker. The mutated creature was now ticked that the human had killed off its brethren and wanted some payback. 

Jake saw the final creature before him and knew that he still did not have the time to reload his two Beretta handguns. He decided this would now be a good opportunity to test out his newly-acquired katana sword. With a look of sheer badass, he withdrew the sword and slashed it a couple of times into the air before he brought it in front of him with a tight double-handed grip.

"Go ahead, punk. Make my day!"

In a murderous frenzy, the Licker leapt at him with claws extended. Jake saw the creature from a mile away and sidestepped the slash, but yet the monster was too quick for him to get a good slash in. The Licker had seen that the human had missed him and went for another move, but Jake was again ready and brought his sword up, striking the beast in the side.

Blood-curdling shrieks filled the air as crimson fluids spewed out of a deep, fresh gash protruding across its right shoulder. The career criminal smiled as he brought the blade up and used a cloth to wipe the Licker's blood from it. Before the creature could leap at him again, Jake charged at it and drove the sharp end of its blade into the monster's side, once again forcing it to scream in pain. With his adversary weakened, Jake gave a malicious smile before he flipped backwards and brought his foot up into the creature's chin, performing a vicious somersault kick that propelled the creature several feet into the air.

The Licker was thrown back by the force of the human's attacks and fell flat on its back. Summoning the rage that drove it, the creature kipped back to its perched position on all fours and let out a monstrous roar as it summoned its remaining strength. Out of desperation, the creature flung itself at its target ready to deliver a killing blow.

KA-BOOM!

A shotgun blast rang out and the creature's head exploded into another crimson mist.

Jake whirled around with his sword raised ready to fight. Before him stood two men. The first was an African-American in his early forties with a smoking Mossberg shotgun in hand. The man wore a tattered police uniform covered in dirt, ash, and dried blood with a bloody bandage wrapped around his right forearm and another bloody bandage covering a wound on his high, wrinkled forehead. A thick layer of black ashes covered his face, as if he had just been through a burning building. The second man stood slightly taller than the uniformed officer and was clad in full riot gear covered in blood, brains, and God knows what else. The visor of his balaclava had been raised, revealing a pair of dark blue eyes and the skin around them, telling that the man beneath the gear was Caucasian. In his hands he held a Colt M4A1 assault rifle.

"Freeze! R.P.D.! Drop your weapon and put your hands up!" the S.W.A.T. officer shouted, shining the flashlight attachment from his assault rifle into the career criminal's eyes.

"Ahh!" Jake cried as he was blinded by the bright light, "Am I under arrest officer? I was only defending myself against those freaks! They would have killed me otherwise!" he shouted towards the two officers. Great, he had shown up in the middle of a necropolis only to be arrested he thought to himself.

"Hold it right there! You just cooperate with us and we might let you go. Try anything funny and I don't care if this city is crawling with zombies, I'll still haul your ass back to the deepest, darkest cell we've got!" The haggard officer's tone was all business, suggesting that he had just been through Hell and back and didn't have the time for the nonsense of a random streetwalker. 

"McGraw, turn your light off!" he shouted to the S.W.A.T. officer, who did as told. The officer returned his attention to Jake, "All right, who are you and what are you doing out on the streets? Can't you see it's too dangerous to be out here by yourself?"

"Relax officer, I was in town on vacation and enjoying a meal down at J's Bar until things started going crazy. I managed to escape with a group of people, but I got separated from them when something large attacked our vehicle. Next thing I know, I'm running through the streets getting attacked by those damned zombies and these skinless freaks. I was heading for the police station or wherever I could find any shelter in a place like this. Looks like I'm fighting an uphill battle though," Jake spoke, trying to be as civil as he possibly could.

"Well, I see you must have had some sense then," the officer replied, "do you have any identification on you?"

Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He presented a false ID to the officer which contained all the information about "Jake Smith" that he would need to know.

"Jacob T. Smith. I see you're not from around here. Do you have any other weapons on you besides that sword?" the officer asked as he closely eyed the Japanese sword that the career criminal still held in hand.

He reached into his pockets and presented his handguns, which still needed to be reloaded. He then showed his magnum and the nightstick to the officer, "I got some from an officer those freaks tore apart. I needed them more than he did right now."

"All right, I supposed you're not here to cause any trouble then. I'm Officer Donald Byrd," the man said introducing himself, "The man over there is Officer David McGraw," he said motioning to the man in riot gear who waved back, "We were heading back to the station ourselves to get away from those freaks."

"I see, what all happened? Any idea what could have caused all of this?"

Donald shook his head, "I have no clue, mister. I'm sure you've probably heard about those mysterious cannibal murders that occurred in the Arklay Mts. area back in late July. Right?"

Jake nodded.

"We figured that some group was behind all of this B.S., so Chief Irons ordered both S.T.A.R.S. units to mobilize and investigate the Spencer Estate and the surrounding area. By the end of the night, only five of them came back alive. They came back with these outlandish claims of zombies, mutants, some kind of man-made virus, and a shady corporation that was behind all of it. Chief Irons didn't believe their story and ordered them taken off the case and suspended indefinitely, claiming that they were all suffering from paranoid delusions. Not long after that, random murders began occurring around town and next thing you know, we've got all of this crap happening."

David stepped forth and removed his balaclava. Aside from the sweat and filth that covered his face, he was a rather youthful looking young officer who was probably around Jake's age, yet his clean-shaven appearance made him look a few years younger. His short brown hair had been matted down by sweat and his eyes gave off a pained demeanor. He stood exactly the same height as Jake so both men were able to stare each other directly in the eye.

"I was down at the barricade on Main St. a few hours ago. Those bastards tore through half the guys like they were nothing."

"Not only that," Donald added, "Last night those freaks laid siege to the police department itself. Killed a lot of good people and wounded many more. I barely made it out myself. Earlier tonight, I was one of the officers manning the barricade down on Oak St. when those bastards came in at full force. My partner Glover and I managed to escape by car, but the stupid son of a bitch ran out of gas. We tried hiding in a convenience store, only to have the place overrun by those freaks and find ourselves having to get the hell outta there, only to get jumped by more of those fucked up sickos. They tore Glover limb from limb. I tried to fight them, but there were too many of them. Stupid bastards. I had to get the hell out of there and back to the station, but then I came across one of these skinless sons of bitches trying to tear McGraw here apart, so I had to help him out."

David then joined in, "So far we've been traveling through these streets trying to get back to the station and find whoever we could to get them out of this mess. You're the only still breathing human who hasn't tried to eat us alive so far, so I guess we should consider ourselves lucky for once."

Jake smirked, "Well thanks, you guys saved my life. If it weren't for you, it would have been curtains for me. I'm getting low on ammo blowing these freaks' heads off, not to mention one of these chumps wrecking my shotgun. I sure could use some backup. I'll come with you guys back to the station."

"All right, if you want to live then you should come with us," David said switching on his flashlight attachment and scoping out the nearby alleys for any possible threats.

Having had a close call with those five "Lickers" he had just encountered, Jake decided that for now it would be in his best interest to stick with the two officers.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

High in the night sky, a squadron of six black unmarked helicopters sped towards the city. Each chopper carried a company of hired mercenaries ten men strong representing the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service, a branch of Umbrella Incorporated dedicated to saving civilians from biohazardous leaks. The troopers waited patiently in the cabins of each aircraft, decked out in full combat gear which consisted of khaki cargo pants and two different types of shirts, khaki green sleeveless shirts that were worn by the lesser grunts, and dark green jackets worn by the higher-up soldiers, all covered by heavy flak jackets that bore the U.B.C.S. logo on the back, the Umbrella logo behind two crossing swords. Polished black combat boots rested on the vibrating floor of the choppers. All men carried either sidepacks strapped to their sides or backpacks slung over their backs that contained everything from emergency rations to emergency flares to their extra clips for their weapons. In their sets of gloved hands, each merc carried the unit's primary weapon of choice: a Colt M4A1 assault rifle. Each man also carried a Sigpro SP2009 handgun as a sidearm, and almost every man carried a combat knife as a last resort weapon.

Carlos Oliveira was among the men present in his helicopter. He was a twenty-old year old mercenary from South America who had done previous work in guerilla units all over the continents helping them battle their oppressive regimes. His current duties in the U.B.C.S. consisted of heavy firearms, security, and mission back-up, as well weapons maintenance. His youth rubbed many of his superiors the wrong way, believing him to be inexperienced and immature. Contrary to their beliefs, he had been a fighter all his life and had survived plenty of harsh encounters in the past. Despite his previous trials and tribulations, he was still a warm-hearted individual with a strong sense of right and wrong.

The young mercenary shifted forward in his seat and tightened his grip around his assault rifle. Deep in his gut he could feel the butterflies stirring as they always did before each mission, but for this mission, his impending sense of dread had skyrocketed as he had heard the reports of the cannibal murders that occurred in the Arklay Mts. area and eventual disaster at the Spencer Estate during the mission briefing back at headquarters. All of this madness going on in Raccoon City was linked to that disaster and right now he was silently cursing himself for signing up for this mission. "Damned greediness," he cursed quietly thinking of how he and the others had been promised 50,000 up front for the successful completion of this mission. He should have just hung up the phone and went back to bed when they called him yesterday morning.

His brown eyes tried to hide the heavy troubles that lurked within them and he sat back trying to give off a cool impression to the guys and trying to convince himself that he would probably just have to deal with a few crazies and then save the remaining civilians, get them to the clock tower, and then get the hell out of Dodge. It sounded simple enough, yet he could not dismiss the dread that clouded his mind. He seriously felt that one or two of his comrades would not be coming home tonight. The U.B.C.S. was known to have a high mortality rate, yet had been successful on several crucial rescue missions in the past.

"Face it Carlos," his mind mused to him, "You're not just worried this time. You're worried like this before every mission, except this time you're scared." He admitted to himself that he was scared. U.B.C.S. served as an absolute last resort when an outbreak could not be contained. Something was seriously messed up and it had to be bad if not even an Umbrella secret ops force could not handle it.

All the young merc had been hearing on CNN was about the strange occurrences going on within the city that his unit was en route to. He had heard rumors all over the headquarters from numerous fellow soldiers about residents possibly contracting the T-Virus and how half the populace had possibly been infected. Raccoon City had been placed under quarantine by the U.S. government and currently had doctors and scientists working around the clock trying to develop a cure for the condition.

Indeed, Carlos was scared but he could not let his fear seep out in front of his fellow squadmates, especially around his commanding officer, Sgt. Nicholai Ginovaef, a literal iceman who seemed to be fazed by nothing. He was a ruthless commander who expected the men under his command to be orderly and show absolutely no fear. He also had a reputation of "making examples" of those who visibly cracked under pressure and would probably not hesitate to injure one of his own men in front of their own squad. He wishes that he could have been assigned to the command of someone more honorable like Mikhail Victor, or someone more personable like Mitch Hirami.

Trying to pull himself from his gloomy thoughts, Carlos looked over to the bench on the opposite side and spotted a tall, lanky figure with short black hair covered by a brown bandana with a scar running down the right side of his face. The man was Murphy Seeker, a twenty-seven year old former U.S. Marine who was one of the few Americans in his unit. He and Murphy had both joined U.B.C.S. at the same time and had quickly bonded, the latter becoming like a brother to him, which he no longer had. He had to admit that if it weren't for the former Marine, he probably would have met his end more than once by now. Murphy was one of the soldiers Carlos had truly bonded with over the years and was one of the closest things to family and he honestly didn't know if he could live with himself if something had happened to his friend. Murphy could sense the South American's eyes upon him and gave him a thumbs up, forcing a small grin across his lips and return the sign.

Murphy Seeker was a former U.S. Marine who had served with the famed 101st Air Brigade, or the Screaming Eagles as they were also known as. He had served with distinction in the Persian Gulf War and had received a Purple Heart after he was wounded while trying to guide a wounded comrade to safety. After his honorable discharge he didn't have much to go home to, yet the fire of a true soldier still burned deeply within him and he still craved the action and adventure he experienced during his service, so he began performing mercenary tasks as a side job. He was a man who was a mixture of tireless humor and professionalism. His official position in this unit was that of field scout, yet he also had a knack for computers and technology and could also pull double duty as a computer expert for hacking into a building's security systems and information gathering.

Sitting next to Murphy was Tyrell Patrick, an African-American of medium height with short black hair he wore in a buzzcut and large wire-rimmed glasses. He was a quiet individual who himself had also served in the Persian Gulf War where he had operated as an N.B.C. (Nuclear, Biological, Chemical) soldier in charge of dealing with hazardous materials. His official position was that of the team's demolitions specialist, but he was also highly knowledgeable with all sorts of chemicals and served of great value to the team as a chemist in outbreak situations like this.

Nicholai Ginovaef stood at the front of the cabin just behind the cockpit. He was not just the epitome of being a "hard assed officer," but he was almost robotic as if nothing fazed him. Carlos had watched people die around him before and he remained as stone faced as ever. Despite being only in his late thirties, the man's short hair was snow white, complimented by a set of icy blue eyes that could freeze any outsider who didn't know him well enough. The man gave off an invisible aura of cold, unforgiving authority that instilled fear in his men and nobody had any real genuine respect for him.

"You all right, man?" asked tactical sniper Shane Collins in his thick Irish accent.

"Eh, I'm all right amigo, you? Carlos shot back, lying completely about his impending sense of dread.

"Couldn't be better," the young Irishman replied.

Shane Collins hailed from Dublin, Ireland and had been a member of the notorious Irish Republican Army before joining up with the U.B.C.S. Typical to his Irish background, he came across as a very jolly, charming individual who was well-liked by the others, but was all business once he hit the battlefield. He had short fiery red hair with long bangs that he often pushed aside to reveal his emerald green colored eyes. Due to his position as the group's tactical sniper, he also carried a PSG-1 assault rifle in addition to the M4A1 that was carried by all of the other troopers present. Carlos respected him greatly with his position. Being a sniper perched up high in the shadows, he was their guardian angel who watched their backs at all times. However, this was an urban environment and there was a greater chance that he would probably down on the ground with the others in a mission like this.

Sitting next to Collins without a word was Wolf Grotsky, a veteran of the division who had been through plenty of battles in the past. His body displayed many scars of previous skirmishes as a testament to his toughness. He was a huge bear of a man who stood around six feet five inches tall with bulging muscles beneath his uniform that almost made him look as if he was crafted from stone. His steely gray eyes made him almost as intimidating as Sgt. Ginovaef, leading to jokes that the two were long lost twin brothers. If there was one thing that nobody liked about him, it was his quiet demeanor, leading many to believe he was an anti-social jerk or had a lot to hide. Then again, too many people were too frightened of him to attempt any kind of communication, yet he followed orders without hesitation. Due to his great size, he acted as the groups heavy machine gunner and carried an M-249 S.A.W. (Squad Assault Weapon) in his catcher's mit-sized hands rather than the typical M4A1 assault rifle.

"So just where the in the bloody hell are we heading for again?" called out radio man John Wicklow.

"If I remember correctly, the pilot said we were heading for your mother's house!" Murphy retorted, prompting a hearty laughter from everybody present and then he reached across to high-five Shane.

"Croiky mate! I do remember ya' bein' over," John shot back in his thick Australian accent, "she told me she initially thought ya' was a lass 'cause ya' were limper than a bloody rag in a sperm bank!" he shouted extending his middle finger.

Everybody roared with laughter, including Carlos. John was only in his late twenties, but he had now served with the U.B.C.S. for nearly eight years. Before joining, he had been a convicted bank robber and car thief back in his native Australia. From his experience in crime he had learned how to pick locks and hotwire cars with great efficiency. Through joining the unit, Umbrella had managed to bribe government officials into erasing his former criminal record and had given him a new life outside his native country. Carlos had gotten to know John pretty well over the last few years and had proven time and time again what a capable soldier he was. He had received several commendations from the company and was in line for a promotion. If there was anybody Carlos could trust to keep his head straight in a situation like this it was John.

"Fuck you!" Murphy struggled to shout back as he was laughing too hard at the same time from the joke that had been directed at him. All that mattered to him was that on this squadron, he had some of the best friends he ever could.

For the first time on the trip, Carlos had actually started to loosen up. For once the presence of Nicholai or Wolf didn't bother him. He could feel his fears start to gradually ebb away until Nicholai cut in, "All of you, silence at once!" he barked in his thick Russian accent. The cabin was silent once more.

"That's much better," he chuckled, "Think about your mission first and being a comedian second. Remember what your orders are men. A biohazardous outbreak has occurred in Raccoon City and company officials believe the townspeople might be suffering from the effects of one of our viruses. Apparently the city's police force nor their health officials have been able to contain the virus. This is where we come in.

"Your orders are to round up whatever civilians you can and guide them to the St. Michael's Clock Tower located at the center of the city. Once there, you will ring the tower bell, which will alert a rescue chopper waiting in the suburbs and be transported to the nearest safe zone. Any questions?" he called out scanning the cabin for any hands.

"Is there any possibility of us contracting the virus, sir?" called out Gerhard Schmidt from the back of the cabin. Schmidt served as the group's weapons specialist who was proficient with all forms of firearms big and small. He was also the first to test any experimental weapons on the battlefield and in addition to his M4A1, he also carried a mine launcher, which fired darts at enemies and would embed themselves into the person's body only to explode three seconds later.

"I have already spoken to the officials back at headquarters," the sergeant stated, "From what they have observed, the virus does not appear to be airborne and the only way to get it is through direct contact with a carrier through bites or scratches. If you experience a headache, fever, skin rash, or whatever, you are to report it to me at once. Chavez will distribute samples of a prototype vaccine before we touch down. Ingest it before you begin your mission at once. Understood?"

Every soldier present nodded. "Oh this is just great," Carlos thought sarcastically to himself, his bad feelings resurfacing. He had heard the rumors of the events at the Spencer Estate, about researchers being exposed to the virus, who would then transform into members of the living dead and seek out each other for warm flesh, only to bite them and transform them into zombies themselves.

He sighed inwardly, knowing that he would not be able to fight his commanding officer over what was going to happen tonight. The chopper was still heading towards Raccoon City and he still had a duty to perform and another payment to earn. He had hoped that these were just pre-mission jitters that he was experiencing and nothing more. He would probably only have to cap a few psycho townspeople if need be and maybe rescue a few civilians and receive a promotion or two.

"I don't care where we're going, as long as I get to kill something," Wolf finally chipped in, inviting a worried stare from Arturo Chavez, the team's medic who sat next to him.

Arturo Chavez originally hailed from Mexico City, Mexico. Coming from a poor, working class district, he's had to fight all his life to get what he wanted. In his younger years he developed an interest in medicine and originally intended to become a medical doctor, but fate would have other plans. In his early teens, his parents had both been killed in gang warfare and left him an orphan. Afterwards he had wanted to join the armed forces, but was rejected for unspecified reasons. Hoping to make a difference in the world, he was eventually accepted to a medical school in the United States and received a degree. Taking note of his exceptional athletic abilities and genius, Umbrella took a liking to him and eventually recruited him for some field training before accepting him as an official researcher. The man carried a medical case with him and wore a white sash with a red cross on his arm to signify his position.

"Heh, damned psycho," the team's engineer Hank Reso grumbled as he stuck a cigarette between his lips and used the torch attached to his tank to light the tip, a habit he was well-known for. Hailing from Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada, Hank stood slightly under six feet talk, but was nicknamed "The Tank" because he was built like one. He had been a high school football star who joined the Canadian Armed Forces upon graduation. A resourceful soldier as well as a loud, boisterous joker, he was another squadmate Carlos had closely bonded with and could always count on to make him laugh.

Despite being around some of his closest friends, his confidence had taken a temporary blow after listening to Nicholai's short speech and he sat back with a look of worry upon his youthful facade.

"Eh, you're not gonna be pussyin' out on us now, are ya' lad?" Shane chuckled playfully punching his friend in the side.

Carlos only smiled back, "Nah, I just hope we all make it out of here in one piece. You guys are like family to me and I just hope we can all go home alive."

Shane smirked, "Ah, I'm touched," he said with feigned emotion acting like he was going to cry, "Such a beautiful little speech," he then snapped out of it and gave Carlos a pat on the shoulder, "I promise man, once we get out of this whole mess I'll take you all out for a round of beers. Hell, I'll buy the whole damn bar out!" he snickered.

"ETA approximately five minutes until we're over Raccoon City," Pilot Garrison Lance spoke over the chopper's intercom.

The remainder of the trip was taken in silence as the chalk of mercenaries double checked their gear and weapons. The silence was broken by another transmission from the pilot, "We are now coming up over the west side of the city. Planned drop off point is Brooks Tower apartment complex."

The mercenaries were now within view of the city and looked out the windows to see large pillars of smoke rising from the streets below, looking as if they had just flown into purgatory itself.

Most of the street lights below had been knocked out of commission, yet the illumination from the fires of burning buildings and car wrecks made up for it, as well as several muzzle flashes that erupted from the darkness. Peering through the smoke, Carlos had managed to spot the blue and red flashing lights of police cruisers and saw several wooden barricades. Apparently they had been passing over a police barricade and could see several officers firing into a large crowd of people approaching them. He then witnessed a flash much larger than that of a regular handgun or assault rifle as a rocket launched towards the crowd followed by a trail of flame. An explosion followed that took up much of the street below. A tremendous ball of reddish-orange flames rose into the sky, just barely connecting with the helicopter.

"Son of a bitch," Murphy murmured.

"What in the bloody motherfuck have we just been thrown into?" John bellowed throughout the cabin.

Carlos watched silently as another line of civilians staggered drunkenly towards the police barricade. The police continued to fire at them, but they still charged forth as if nothing was happening and forcing the officers back even farther than they were before. He looked over to Nicholai, whose face remained as etched in stone as ever.

"E.T.A. in exactly three minutes," the pilot barked over the intercom.

"Few psychopathic citizens my ass," Collins scowled, "The entire city's psychotic."

"We're heading into that?" Chavez nervously asked.

"Yes, do you have a problem with that?" Nicholai sinisterly replied, eyeing his pistol closely.

"Uh...No sir..." the medic returned sinking his head.

Nicholai stood up to speak again as the chopper approached the Brooks Tower apartment complex, "All right, listen up! We are about to touch down on our designated landing point. Once there, you will split up into groups of two and search the surrounding area for any survivors. You will then report to the designated meeting site by 2400 hours in two days sharp. Do I make myself clear?"

"Sir, yes sir!" the mercenaries shouted.

The helicopter was now hovering over the tallest building of the complex and the rappeling ropes were lowered. It would be time for the ten men to make their descent. For the young mercenary Carlos Oliveira, this was about to become a nightmare come to real life.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The tortured moans of the undead wailed outside her apartment window.

Jill Valentine sat down on her bed inspecting her customized Beretta M92F handgun to make sure that it was in fine working order. She knew that she had a lot of work ahead of her if she wanted to escape from this accursed city alive.

"This is it. My last escape," she told herself slapping a fresh clip into her gun.

For several weeks now there had been random murders and attacks by "dog-like monsters" and "disheveled-looking individuals" all around town. To the ordinary townspeople, they were the acts of a new group of people trying to terrorize the town into submission, but the former S.T.A.R.S. machine expert knew better than that.

The night of horrors at the Spencer Estate from two months ago was forever etched in her mind. She could remember it like ir was yesterday.

Random cannibal murders in the Arklay Mountain area and public outcry forced the S.T.A.R.S. units to take action. The more inexperienced Bravo Team had been dispatched first to scour the area for any possible clues and survivors, only to encounter engine trouble and a forced landing in the middle of an open field. Once the unit had landed they were attacked by the "dog-like monsters" as reported from civilian sightings and it was a garbled radio message from Bravo communications specialist Richard Aiken that would bring Alpha Team into action.

Alpha Team was the more highly-trained of the two S.T.A.R.S. units working in cooperation with the Raccoon Police Department. It was a unit that consisted of the enigmatic leader Albert Wesker, former U.S. Air Force pilot and team marksman Chris Redfield, team machine expert and former cat burglar Jill Valentine, former S.W.A.T. sergeant and weapons expert Barry Burton, team vehicle specialist and shotgun enthusiast Joseph Frost, and the cowardly helicopter pilot Brad Vickers. They were sent in to continue Bravo Team's mission, as well as locate their missing comrades, but what started out as a rescue mission would soon turn into a race for survival.

Upon landing, the unit discovered the smoking remnants of Bravo's helicopter and found the team's pilot Kevin Dooley literally ripped to shreds. Sickened by the sight and flabbergasted as to what could have done such a thing, they were about to find out.

Searching further through the large grass field, Joseph came across spent handgun bullets, shotgun shells, and explosive rounds before coming across a severed hand clutching a handgun. Before he could call out for help, an unseen creature leapt from a nearby cluster of tall grass and tore into his throat. Seconds later more creatures joined in.

Looking on in pure horror, Jill soon realized that the creatures appeared to be a pack of skinless Dobermans and they had turned their attention to the rest of the Alpha members. The four horrified officers tried to retreat to the safety of their helicopter, only to have their frightened pilot take off into the night sky and seemingly abandon them for good. The quartet didn't have time to curse their teammate's cowardice as they still had a pack of bloodthirsty carnivores hunting them down and they all had to get to safety fast or risk becoming their next meal. Immediately, they sighted a large mansion and made a break for it, coming within an eyelash of being bitten.

The mansion the desperate soldiers had sought refuge in was by all accounts supposed to have been abandoned, yet there was not a week's worth of dust on anything present within the grand foyer in which they stood. The four soldiers stood in awe at their grand, royal surroundings, but were quickly brought back by the all too familiar sound of a gunshot. Captain Wesker had ordered the subordinates to search the adjoining rooms while he would remain behind in the main hall.

Jill and Barry went on to search the main dining room, while Chris would search the east wing of the building. The duo swept through the elegant dining room, only to stop as they came across a pool of blood. Barry ordered Jill to search further and when she did, she would spot a sight that she would never forget.

Before her, an individual was found knelt over the remains of a person, but not just any person. It was Kenneth J. Sullivan, Bravo's field scout and chemist extraordinaire! His head had been torn off along with half the flesh from his face. The person that stood over him, whatever it was wasn't human. It had pale white skin, glossed over eyes, peeling skin, and chunks of Kenneth's flesh dripping from its mouth. The being could only be described as...A zombie. It would not be the only zombie they would encounter throughout the night, let alone the only type of monster.

Battling their way through the vast mansion, the surviving Alpha members encountered zombies, advanced forms of zombies known as "Crimson Heads," the same demonic dogs that attacked them out in the fields who would later be revealed as "Cerberus," flesh-hungry crows, giant spiders known as "Web Spinners" and their queen the "Black Tiger," the mutated Plant 42, giant mutated wasps, a gigantic snake known as "Yawn," virus exposed sharks known as Neptunes, ape-like lizards known as "Hunters," insect/human hybrids known as the "Chimera," and even a mutated woman whom Chris and Wesker would encounter with her wrists shackled together who appeared to be immune to all sorts of firearms. Discovered files would later reveal the woman's identity as that of Lisa Trevor, daughter of George Trevor, architect of the Spencer Estate, who had been been captured along with her mother and used for experimentation.

Monsters weren't the only things the S.T.A.R.S. members encountered during their search of the mansion, they would also learn about the grisly fates of their Bravo compatriots. In addition to Kevin and Joseph who had both been torn apart by the Cerberi and Kenneth who had been eaten alive by a zombie, Chris and Jill would stumble across the rest of their teammates, or what was left of them for the better part.

Blasting his way through several zombies, Chris eventually came across Bravo medic Rebecca Chambers, who had had been nursing a wounded Richard Aiken. The man had been bitten by the Yawn and needed serum fast. The man would be saved, only to be swallowed whole by a Neptune in one of the mansion's underground laboratories.

Exploring the sunroom area, Jill would come across the remnants of Bravo team's vehicle specialist and explosives enthusiast Forest Speyer, who had been pecked to death by crows. She quickly acquired his MGL-MKL cylindrical loaded grenade launcher before being swarmed by the same flock of murderous birds that had killed him. Chris would then come across his body hours later, only to have his former friend transform into one of the undead and attack him.

Traveling through the mansion's catacombs after having several nearfalls against the relentless Hunters, Jill and Barry happened across Enrico Marini, Bravo Team's leader and Wesker's second-in-command. The man had been seriously wounded and tried to tell the two of them about a traitor within their organization. Before he could reveal the traitor's name, he was shot dead right before their eyes by an unseen assailant.

After their trek through the mansion, Rebecca had told the others of her trip aboard the Ecliptic Express, where she had been forced to shoot her fellow teammate, Bravo navigator and marksman Edward Dewey, to death after he had been bitten by a zombie and was in the process of turning. She had later made her way through a secret Umbrella training facility within the former Marcus Mansion alongside former Marine and convicted mass murderer Billy Coen, only to wind up in the Spencer Estate.

The four surviving S.T.A.R.S. members were then reunited with Captain Wesker in one of the underground laboratories, only to learn that this whole adventure had been a set up and that they were being used as nothing more than combat data against the Umbrella Corporation's newly-developed Bio-Organic Weapons (B.O.W.), he then proceeded to shoot Rebecca in the chest several times and then ordered Barry to turn his gun on both of his teammates. It turns out that the corrupt captain had manipulated the gentle Barry into working for him under the grounds that his family would be harmed if he did not help destroy evidence. Chris and Jill were then led into the main laboratory where Wesker unveiled his greatest creation, the Tyrant. Explaining his plot for total domination, he unleashed the genetically-engineered beast upon the survivors, only to have the beast turn upon him and systematically skewer him with its gigantic claw, painting the walls with his blood and internal organs.

With no other options available, the S.T.A.R.S. were forced to fight back. Feeling the guilt over his betrayal, Barry joined in and they would soon be joined by Rebecca, who had survived thanks to her bulletproof vest. After wasting a great chunk of their remaining ammo on the beast, they finally dropped it and had to escape as the mansion's self-destruct sequence had been set.

The four survivors quickly made their way to the mansion's helipad, where much to their surprise Brad Vickers had been waiting for them. Using a flare found in a storage room, Chris signaled for him to touchdown.

Their escape would have to wait. A certain "old friend" wasn't letting them leave without a fight.

With an earth shattering roar, the Tyrant burst through the concrete tarmac and prepared for one final assault against the survivors. Summoning what little ammunition they had left, they fought the monster with everything they had left. Seeing their predicament from above, Brad dropped his rocket launcher for Chris to use.

Lining the beast up in his sights, Chris pulled the trigger.

"Game over."

A second later, the monster was blown to pieces and the S.T.A.R.S. survivors made their escape.

In the aftermath of the Spencer Estate incident, only Chris, Jill, Barry, Rebecca, and Brad survived. Unfortunately for them, nobody back at the station brought their stories of real-life zombies, mutated creatures, and a shady conspiracy and thus Chief Irons removed them from the case and placed them on indefinite suspension. The survivors were not deterred though as they still had an insidious corporation to bring down.

(Author's Note: I'm sorry if all that information about them being in the mansion was a little too brief. I realize that this is only supposed to be a short bit explaining how Jill comes to be and I don't have the time to go into the explicit details of what happened at the Spencer Estate, but I'm sure all you hardcore RE gamers out there would know already. I also apologize if this seemed rushed because it's after midnight over here and I didn't get much sleep last night because I think my back might have been giving me some shit, combined with the fact that I'm usually pretty restless on nights when I know I have to get up early the next morning.)

Using information he had obtained through some disgruntled Umbrella employees and contacts investigating the company within the government, Chris had managed to obtain information about one of Umbrella's main bases in Paris, France, as well as several possible other locations scattered throughout Europe. When she last saw him, he had already been making travel arrangements with a British contact and had been receiving orders for the weapons he would need.

Barry had agreed to help out with the investigation in the hopes of redemption for his betrayal, but first he had to get his family to Canada where they would be safe. Rebecca had accepted an assignment with two fellow rogue S.T.A.R.S. agents named David Trapp and John Andrews and was currently at some place in Maine called Caliban Cove, where Umbrella was rumored to have another base of operations. Brad, in his true cowardly fashion, skipped town and hasn't been heard from since.

Jill had resigned from S.T.A.R.S. and remained in Raccoon City to investigate the Umbrella Corporation's remaining interests within the city in the hopes of gathering any additional evidence that could help put them out of business for good.

Now, she just needed to escape from the city alive.

The sound of undead moaning was quickly drowned out by the blood-curdling shrieks of a man being eaten alive by the zombies that waited outside Jill's apartment.

"This is it you rotting bastards, I'm coming!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake Cavanaugh, David McGraw, and Donald Byrd slowly made their way through a back alley with weapons drawn. Being the most well-armed of the trio, David led the way with assault rifle raised, his flashlight attachment illuminating the alley they traveled through.

It had been nearly half an hour since Jake had first come across the two officers and he could already tell that both of them seemed to be honest, upstanding police officers, unlike most of the pigs he had encountered back in places like Los Santos, Carcer City, Liberty City, and Vice City. He walked side-by-side with Donald, who at the moment still had his Mossberg drawn. So far they had not encountered any additional monsters since the two officers had saved him and he actually found himself striking up a conversation with Donald, who was telling him about his family and his duties with the police station and the community itself. He pretended to be interested so he would not arouse any suspicion. David was leading the trio and didn't have much time to build a conversation, but did respond when spoken to. He seemed like an all right guy, but at the same time very determined to avenge his fallen colleagues he had lost back at the Main St. barricade.

"See anything yet, McGraw?" Donald quietly called out to his fellow officer, hoping not to attract any unwanted attention from possible nearby enemies.

"Not yet, but we're coming to a turn," David replied. He raised his hand and motioned for his two companions to halt and then reached into his utility belt and pulled out an opti-wand that S.W.A.T. officers used to search around corners for threats and civilians during missions. The young officer positioned himself along the right wall and then moved the little mirror around, "It's clear so far," he said raising his assault rifle. Jake and Donald looked to each other and gave a silent nod before moving forth.

Jake moved alongside the older officer with both Berettas drawn. If zombies or any other creatures approached them he would be able to gun them down much faster then. Despite having his magnum revolver on him, he still hoped to find another powerful weapon soon to conserve his physical strength if need be. Strangely enough, he almost felt like he was missing a limb without his trusty SPAS-12 after it had been slashed in half by that one Licker. He had used that gun several times in the past and had sent many a lowlife scumbag six feet under, yet the feeling of loss didn't overcome him as he was good with any weapon he held in his mighty hands.

"Ack!" Donald jumped as a rat darted past his feet, "Man, I just wanna get back to the station and away from those crazies running around on the streets."

"I hear you man," David shot back, "I know your wife and kids must be missing you back at the station, but for now you've gotta focus on keeping yourself alive and anybody else we might come across."

Donald said nothing back. Oh god how he missed his wife and children. He had taken them back to the station hoping they would be safe when the riots started occurring. He had also heard about the incident with the zombies storming the station and wounding several of his co-workers. Last he heard, the survivors were being kept in the station's second floor library and he had hoped that they would be safe there. If not, there were several rooms in the basement corridor and maybe even cram them up into the tiny clock tower if need be.

"What the hell?" David suddenly blurted aloud, immediately catching both of his companions' attention. The two additional men rounded the corner to find him standing before a message written on a brick wall in blood that proudly proclaimed "FREE THE DAMNED!" On the ground below, what looked like the remnants of someone's intestines lay rotting in the nighttime air.

"Fuckin' A!" Jake said aloud. The career criminal's attention was quickly diverted by the sound of a trashcan being knocked over and a shadowy figure moving towards the three men.

"R.P.D.! Come out with your hands up, do it now!" David shouted towards the figure in the most authoritative tone he possibly could, sweeping the alley with his flashlight. Donald and Jake stood behind him with weapons raised ready to strike if needed.

"Oh thank god! The R.P.D.!" the figure called out and ran into the light. The man who stood before them was a short, slightly overweight middle-aged man with short light red hair and wore blue jeans, a white top, and a brown leather jacket with one of the sleeves torn off.

"Please officer, you have to help me! There's millions of those things out there and they're trying to get me! Those things butchered my wife and mother, and now I just lost my daughter out here! Please, you have to get me away from those undead monsters!" the man shouted unable to contain his bitter weeping as he sunk down to his knees before the S.W.A.T. officer.

David honestly didn't know what to say to the man. Sure, he along with Donald and Jake were both well-armed enough to possibly deal with a small army of the undead, but they were still quite a ways away from the police station and their ammo would only hold out for so long. Plus, he and Donald were two of the only possible officers left alive out on the streets right now and there would be no backup to come rescue them. Most of his co-workers had been butchered back at the barricade and he didn't know who was still left alive. The sheer fact that the majority of a heavily-armed platoon of police officers had been slaughtered was proof that they would not have an easy time protecting even one civilian, especially when it was down to him and one other officer. Jake appeared to be a capable enough fighter, but he was only a civilian to the officer and despite his abilities, he still thought it was a liability to allow a civilian to fight. But right now him and Donald didn't have much choice and they would need all the help they could get. The man that stood before them appeared to be too weak and out of shape to effectively fight alongside them.

"Calm down, what is your name, sir?" Donald asked the man getting involved in the conversation.

"Russo. Dario Russo! My daughter is Tiffany. Here, I can show you a picture of her," the man said reaching into his pocket and showing the two officers a picture from his wallet. Both officers only looked at him solemnly.

"What?" he asked nervously upon recognizing their silent, solemn demeanors, "Come on, you guys are both highly-trained officers of the law. Please tell me you guys know how to handle a situation like this..." the man whimpered as he hoped for the officers to tell him what he wanted to hear.

David shook his head, "I'm sorry sir, but we've never received any training for a situation like this. This is the living dead we're dealing with here, not some frenzied rioters. The only thing we do know is that you have to kill them with headshots. Then again, you're going to need all of Fort Bragg to pull that of with the number we have running around here."

"Wh-What?" Dario whined.

"I'm sorry, but there's going to be no cavalry to come and rescue us. Officer Byrd and I are probably the only officers left alive in this whole entire city right now," David finished.

"What?" Dario screeched, "You mean to tell me that you guys are the freakin' law in this city, yet you don't even know how to protect an innocent bystander? What the hell kind of cops are you? My little Tiffany's probably lying dead out there being torn limb from limb by those murderous monsters!" he ranted and hollered taking a couple swings at David, who quickly brought his heavily padded arms up to deflect the ill-tempered salesman's blows.

"Calm down! Calm down, god dammit!" Donald ordered as he tried to pull the slobbish man away from his fellow officer. The struggle continued until Jake raised both guns.

"We've got company boys!"

From overhead, a feral, piercing, animalistic cry forced the men to direct their attention towards the rooftops. The sharp, ear-splitting scream continued like a prison siren and forced all of the men to cover their ears and clamp their eyes shut.

"What the hell is that?" Donald cried out to his companions.

Perched on the rooftop before them was a creature that stood roughly five feet tall and a muscular body that almost made it look like a cross between a reptile and a gorilla. It had the face of a piranha and a head and shoulders that seemed to be covered by red warts. Its hands carried eight inch claws and each foot had equally long talons. The nightmare creature stared at the four men through glowing blood red eyes. The creature threw back its head and unleashed another bone jarring shriek and was then joined by two more creatures that amplified the effect.

The men clamped their hands over their ears, feeling as if their skulls were going to burst from the shockwaves generated by the combined bawling of the creatures. A moment later the men were able to re-open their eyes and saw that both officers and the salesman wore the same expressions of fright. Jake stared angrily at the creature knowing that he could not have imagined this creature up himself if the others could see it as well.

"Holy shit! What the fuck is that thing? Dario screamed as he stared wide-eyed at the scaly monster. He then looked over to the officers, "Well what are you morons doing just standing there? You've got guns! Kill that freak!"

"My god..." David said to himself. Beneath his balaclava, he displayed a pale mask of panic upon his youthful features as he stared intently at the ungodly monster perched above him. All around the four survivors more glass-shattering howls cut through the night air. Jake stood nearby pointing his guns in all directions in case the creatures decided to get "up close and personal." Several hulking, muscular silhouettes flashed in the moonlight, increasing the career criminal's level of paranoia.

"Kill them dammit!" Dario cried as he threw himself against a dark wall, hoping to make himself invisible to the creatures above. He saw that the three other men with him still did nothing but look around waiting for the creatures to make a move, "Oh god...I don't wanna die!" he whined sinking to his knees.

Jake still moved his guns in all directions waiting for the creatures above to slow down long enough so he could open fire upon one of them. Suddenly, the criminal felt his internal radar go off, one that only went off when he could feel eyes upon him.

Turning around slowly, the career criminal looked up to see one of the dark green reptilian creatures staring down upon him with demonic eyes burning brightly and its eight inch claws glimmering in the moonlight. The creature's fangs formed a demented grin and with an animalistic howl, it made the jump. 


	9. Chapter 8: A Lesson In Pain

Darkness Arises by E-Z B

Chapter 8: A Lesson In Pain

The reptilian creature above let out a shrill battle cry and with the use of its powerful legs, leapt into the air with claws extended, hoping to claim Jake Cavanaugh as its next victim.

TATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATAT!

Several bullets smacked into the creature's rough hide and sent its blood raining down from above. With several of its bones shattered from the rounds fired into its body, the creature fell to the ground below and landed on top of its head, killing it instantly.

Rattled by the burst of fire, Jake and the other two men turned to find David standing with his assault rifle smoking, panting heavily as he stared at the dead creature when he knew more were nearby.

"Come on, we have to kill these froggies!" Jake said taking control of the situation. Seeing one of the monsters trying to sneak up on the group, he raised his dual pistols and instinctively aimed for its head, striking the monster three times before a bullet finally found its intended mark right between the creature's eyes.

"Don't come any closer!" Donald cried firing a round of buckshot at a creature that had taken its place on the fire escape above them. Sparks flew through the air as he missed the shot and he quickly fired another hot salvo of shells, this time striking the creature in its chest. The monster howled in pain as blood spilled down its chest and only let out a gurgling cry, seeming more annoyed than injured. The creature stared down in pure hatred as it took a step in the officer's direction, only to stop and jerk awkwardly as Jake emptied his pistols into the creature's back.

"Damn these things know how to take a beating," Jake muttered, reaching into his trenchcoat for another pair of clips.

Dario Russo could only cringe in fear as the nightmarish beasts flew through the air above him. He clamped his hands over his ears hoping to block out the sounds of gunshots and inhuman shrieks, but it would be of no use and he let out almost girlish screams with every explosion or cry that took place above him.

"God, I should've never listened to my mother and became a nobody salesman. If I would've followed my heart, I'd probably be a highly successful novelist and probably far away from this hellhole right now!" he thought to himself, only to be interrupted as he felt some blood splash onto him. He looked up to see that the S.W.A.T. officer named David had unloaded another flurry of hot lead into a creature that had been scaling the wall, raining down dirt and blood upon the frightened man.

The cool metal guns that Jake held in his hands had almost become like a part of his body as he fired away at the creature's around him. The results were almost instantaneous as a pair of reptilian skulls seemed to erupt around him, the man not even bothering to shield himself as scales, slimy blood, fragments of bone, and bits of grey matter showered down upon him and the pavement beneath him.

David leapt into a shadowy corner, hoping he would have some cover as he was forced to reload his assault rifle. He looked at the demons that lay dead around them, watching as their blood washed into nearby sewage drains. These creatures should not exist he thought to himself, except in the mind of a madman. The S.W.A.T. officer was no madman, but it almost felt to him as if some portal from another dimension had opened in Raccoon City and left its denizens to wreak havoc upon the newly charted territory.

"David, look out!" Jake cried out, raising his guns.

Shaken from his thoughts, the young officer turned around just in time to dodge a claw swipe that had come from a monster who had tried to surprise them. A thunderous boom rang out and the creature fell dead next to David, two-thirds of its skull obliterated by Donald's shotgun.

"Come on, we can't stay here much longer or we'll just lead more of these freaks to us!" Donald called out over the sound of the two other men firing into the darkness as the creatures tried to hide on them.

"No! Those things will tear us apart if we go out into the open!" Dario cried in dismay, peeking his head out from underneath the cardboard box and ruffled newspapers he had draped over himself, "They'll kill us!"

"We don't have much choice fat boy! We're sitting ducks in this place. We have to move or else they will cut you up for sure!" Jake shouted, firing several rounds into one of the creatures before he finally dropped it with a lethal shot to its spinal cord.

"No! You're fucking insane!" Dario screamed.

"And you're a fucking yellowbelly coward!" Jake retorted, grabbing the smaller man by his collar and yanking him out from underneath his protective covering. "We've got no other choice! Either you come with us, or else I'm going to feed you to these creatures myself!" he shouted, giving the salesman a petrifying stare that frightened him almost as much as those demons that surrounded him.

"Save your breath for running!" David shouted at Dario as he fired a barrage into a monster that clung to one of the surrounding buildings. The man then turned his attention to Donald, "Donald, do you know any short cuts to any place safe?" he asked as he pulled the trigger and another beast collapsed with a round in its skull.

"Follow me!" Donald shouted back firing another blast, only to click empty a second later, "And cover me while you're at it!" he added reaching into his pocket for some fresh shells.

"Right!" David shouted as he fired once more and dropped a creature that had made its way to the ground behind Donald. He winced a second later as he felt blood and skull fragments spray onto his uniform. He turned to see that Jake had unloaded into a monster that had almost snuck up behind him.

"Damn, watch we're you spray that shit!" the officer said with great annoyance.

"Watch your back then-" Jake said, but was cut off as David fired a round over his shoulder. He turned around to find another creature lying dead behind him.

"You were saying?"

"Bite me, pig!" Jake shot back running past the officer and out into the open street where he could see Dario and Jake running close behind Donald in a mad dash. There were still several demonic abominations behind them and the young officer was not to keen on turning his back to run, especially with nobody left to cover him. He decided for now that he would focus on following his companions.

Donald led the group into another dark alley, hoping he could lead them to sanctuary in a place he knew pretty well that wasn't too far away. Right now he could only pray that the three other men with him were fit enough for the long run ahead of them. He looked over his shoulder to see Jake right behind him. David, who had been the last man out, was quickly gaining ground and had already passed the overweight Dario, who huffed and puffed with every step he took. The reptilian creatures were also gaining ground and were nearly on top of Dario.

"David, bang those creatures! Jake, lay down some cover fire!" Donald ordered as he finally had the time to reload his shotgun.

David nodded and quickly stopped to pull out a flashbang grenade. He looked to Jake who was right in front him, "Shut your eyes and cover your ears!" he ordered and waited for Dario to run past him. He then pulled the pin and tossed the grenade out onto the streets.

The flashbang hit the concrete with a loud "THUNK" and the creatures had stopped to investigate. A second later, the grenade had gone off, emitting a bright flash that blinded the creatures and prompted more bone rattling screams.

"Now!" David shouted and opened fire upon the creatures, immediately killing one and wounding two.

Jake nodded back to the S.W.A.T. officer and fired several rounds into one of the creatures, dropping it instantly. He then trained both guns in separate directions and dropped two of them simultaneously. Twirling both of his guns like a Wild Western gunfighter, he dropped another creature with a shot to its spinal cord. The creature wasn't dead, but would eventually die from blood loss.

David's assault rifle cracked on and off next to Jake as he fired at creatures that flew in all directions like large mosquitoes in the air. Jake had to tip his hat to the guy that for a pig, he was still a pretty damn good shot as he had either managed to kill or severely wound any of the freaks that flew at them.

"Hurry up you two!" Donald called out from ahead as he and Dario had managed to get a significant distance towards where they were heading.

"We'll worry about these steroid-addled lizards later, let's go!" David shouted to Jake as tossed another flash grenade at the monsters and ran after the two other men.

Jake quickly reloaded his dual pistols and ran after the S.W.A.T. officer. The two men raced down another dark, trash filled alley and had appeared to have temporarily lost the reptilian creatures as the bestial cries had grown more and more distant with every step they took ahead of them and they moved farther to see Donald and Dario standing in front of them near a short stairwell leading down.

"This way!" Donald ordered motioning with his shotgun.

"What are we going here for?" David asked shining his light down the concrete steps.

"I used to work at this place. The owner and I go way back. Here we might be able to find some temporary shelter," Donald said as he tried the door, only to find it locked. He kicked the door in frustration and grunted.

"Allow me," Jake said pushing past the two officers. He quickly reached into a compartment in his trenchcoat and pulled out his lockpick. After a few quick seconds, the door clicked open and he allowed the three other men to enter ahead of him.

"Where are we?" David asked as he used an abandoned lighter he had found in a storage chest to light a small lantern that hung above them.

"We're in the basement storage room of Santino's. I'm hoping Sonny has a vehicle that can get us around, or at least have some other supplies we might need around here," Donald said as he switched on the power in the large room. Light immediately flooded the large room, which exposed seemingly endless rows supplies used in the restaurant area above. Large wooden crates laid haphazardly around the concrete floor and several large storage lockers stood against the walls. Some of the crates had been smashed open and their contents spilled out. Nothing appeared to be of immediate use so the four men moved along until they rounded a corner and came across another zombie. This zombie had been that of a young woman in a waitress uniform and blood surrounded her lips suggesting that she had just made a fresh kill.

"Let me handle this!" Donald said raising his sidearm H&K VP-70 and fired a bullet into the side of her head.

"Jesus!" Dario shouted as he recoiled in horror at the sight of a once normal woman being killed before him. 

David ran over to inspect the woman's corpse. "Candace" her name tag read and he searched her body to find a meat cleaver. He turned to face the others, "All I found was this meat cleaver on her. She must've died trying to fight these creeps off."

"I wouldn't blame the poor lady," Donald said aloud. He then looked down to his shotgun and found that he only had three shells left in the chamber. He reached into his pocket and found that he still had a few shells left. "These are some of the last ones I have left," he said sliding four additional shells into the chamber, "After this, I only have two more left. Man, I need some more if I'm going to make it out of this whole deal alive."

A small shake was heard next to him and the veteran officer turned around to find Jake presenting him with a case full of shotgun shells, nearly jabbing the case into his side. "Take 'em, I won't be needing them anymore. One of those skinless freaks back there split my shotgun in half."

"Thank you," Donald replied happily accepting the case of shotgun shells, "We should probably do an ammo check before moving on."

Donald currently had his shotgun fully loaded with two additional shells in reserve. The case of shotgun shells given to him by Jake brought his total up to thirty-seven. His H&K VP-70 had seventeen rounds left in its current clip with three additional in reserve. He also carried a .38 snub-nosed revolver in his shin holster which was fully loaded with six speed loaders in reserve, bringing his total up to thirty-six bullets. David's Colt M4A1 assault rifle currently held nine rounds in its current clip and he carried two additional in reserve. His sidearm H&K VP-70 had a fully loaded clip with three clips in reserve. In addition to those weapons, he also carried a Browning HP he had found in the storage shed along with several other items hidden in the large wooden chest there and decided he would give it to somebody who really needed it. Dario seemed like he would more likely try to blow his own brains out rather than fight the monsters, so giving it to him was not an option and Jake and Donald were both well-armed enough already. In addition to his firearms, he also carried a police baton he had found on one of his dead fellow officers in a back alley, a hand tazer he had found on another, and his combat knife he always carried with him. Jake carried two half-loaded Berettas with four clips that he planned to split between each gun, along with his still fully loaded S&W M629C that he hadn't had to use yet along with several speed loaders remaining for that gun, a police baton, and the katana sword he had taken from the antiques shop.

"Here, you'd better take this," David said offering the large meat cleaver to Dario, who just stared at him with a look of bewilderment.

"Think that's such a good idea?" Jake smirked to David, who couldn't help but snicker at the comment. Dario only gave him a filthy look. 

While the three other men "conversed" amongst themselves, Donald walked over to the stairs leading to the upper floor and pumped his shotgun. "I'm going to search the upper floors for any survivors. David, I want you to come along with me. Jake, Dario, I want both of you to remain down here in the basement. There's no sense in putting any civilians in danger so I want both of you to remain here until we come back to get you. If we're not back within an hour, leave!"

"What? You can't be serious? You're going to leave me down here in this cruddy basement with this lunatic? You're officers of the law! You're supposed to serve and protect, not knowingly endanger an innocent bystander by saddling him with some unpredictable time bomb waiting to go off!" Dario ranted upon hearing the news.

Jake stood off to the side and shook his head, rubbing his forehead as the sound of Dario's high-pitched whine hit him like a freight train of madness. "Oh brother..." he muttered quietly.

"Look Mr. Russo, I just told you I don't want to put any civilians in danger," Donald stated, "You are obviously in no condition to fight and you are armed with only a meat cleaver! Those zombies aren't the only things crawling around out there and I'm not going to risk seeing any more innocent blood be shed tonight, so you can either listen and stay down here with Mr. Smith, or we leave you behind when we finally do find some way out of here!"

Dario immediately shut up after listening to Donald's stern warning, but deep down he was still seething in anger and was ready to blow his lid once the officer left.

David turned to Jake and smiled beneath his balaclava, "You watch ol' porky here now, don't be afraid to give him a good bitch slap upside the head if he starts acting up again," he chuckled, but was silenced by a threatening glare from Donald.

"Come on, we'll sweep the entire upper floor, round up any civilians we can, eliminate any threats that stand in our way, find some method of transportation, and then we get the hell out of here and back to the station!" Donald said to David.

"Affirmative! I just want to get whoever I can out of here in one piece," David solemnly nodded, remembering the massacre back at the main barricade.

The two police officers shared a nod and then proceeded to the upper floor of the restaurant while Jake watched from a nearby crate with gun in hand. He hoped the two men knew what they were doing and that they could at least get him out of here so he could complete his mission. Twirling his Beretta around his finger, he looked over to Dario, who stood near the stairs pacing back and forth nervously.

"I can't believe them! Those insolent fools! They've left us down here to die! With those giant lizards running around, it's only a matter of time before they find us! I would rather starve to death in this filthy shithole than be eaten by one of those mutated monsters!" he roared having to brace himself against a wine rack afterwards, "Oh dear lord...What use is it? We're all going to die anyway..."

"Hey porky, if you don't shut your goddamned mouth I will come over there and skin you alive like the whiny little pig that you are myself!" Jake shouted with enough force that nearly shook the concrete foundation. "Dammit, as if dealing with those zombies outside isn't enough, I get stuck having to babysit an ill-tempered, overbearing mama's boy reeking of nothing but shit and fear," he grunted tossing an empty bottle off to the side.

"What did you just call me you Dracula wannabe?" Dario asked walking over to Jake. "I would watch my tongue if I were you boy!" the salesman shouted trying to sound macho, "I roughed up plenty of punks like you in my day. Heh, you don't look so tough! You just look like some wannabe goth who should be in his room smoking his weed and listening to his heavy metal...And wallowing about how much your life sucks!" the overweight salesman rambled on and on while Jake just sat on the crate glaring at him with a cold, unforgiving stare of indifference.

"Hell..." Dario shouted, "Damn, right now I wanna slap your poor mama!"

Those words instantly struck a chord with the career criminal.

"What did you just say?" he growled, cracking his knuckles as he stared intently at the smaller man. He began to walk slowly and menacingly towards the salesman with his fists clenched as tightly as he could ball them.

Dario Russo suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. He had now officially angered the much larger career criminal and was about to receive a lesson in pain for his stupidity. Acting on instinct, he shot his hand up that held the meat cleaver, "Don't come any closer!"

Jake stopped as the blade was raised before him. He saw the sharp meat cleaver in Dario's hands and was not intimidated at all. Since he had first met the older man, he could tell that he was all bark and no bite. With a light chuckle he crossed his arms across his muscular chest.

"Do you seriously think you can strike me?" the young criminal asked as he leaned against a pillar with his arms still crossed, grinning evilly at his antogonist.

"Uh, uh, uh..." Dario stammered as he backed away with the meat cleaver still raised, "Uh...Um...I'm warning you, don't come any closer!" he shouted, nearly knocking over some wine barrels behind him.

"Come on," Jake dared the man opening his arms, "I'm right here! Come get me!"

The salesman still did not attack. Right now Dario Russo was more horrified of Jake Cavanaugh than he was any of the zombies or other monstrosities lurking out on the streets. "Okay...Okay..." he blurted out, "Were you that offended by the comment about slapping your mama? If you were then I'm sorry!" he shouted knocking over a crate full of apples.

"Wrong answer, Moby Dick!" Jake shouted and then charged at the salesman.

By the time Dario could comprehend what was happening, he was suddenly knocked backwards with the force of a mack truck as Jake charged him and drove his shoulder into the salesman's sternum.

"Ahhh! Help!" the portly salesman cried as he was knocked backwards onto the cold concrete. By the time his vision had refocused, the taller career criminal was standing over him and yanked him up by his collar.

"P-P-Please!" Dario pleaded. 

Jake only smiled and reared back, driving his head into the salesman's. Dario was thrown against a large stack of cardboard boxes. A second later, the wind was knocked out of him as the career criminal reared back and drove his fist into the man's stomach.

"Jesus!" Dario cried as he collapsed to all fours. He heard the footsteps on the concrete floor and turned to see Jake again standing over him, "No don't! I've got a wife and kid!" he cried bringing his arms up to shield his face.

The career criminal shook his head, "Einstein, you told me they were dead!" Jake then drew his foot back and kicked Dario in the ribs several times until the man had curled into a fetal position.

"Please stop! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Dario cried feeling the salty tears streaming down his face. If the man was going to kill him he prayed that he would just get it over with quickly and painlessly.

Jake stood over the defeated salesman and narrowed his eyes. "Man, you truly are a pathetic waste of human flesh. If I were you, I'd learn how to keep my mouth shut!" he spat venomously. The salesman only whimpered in response. "Good, now that I hope you've learned your lesson, I hope we never have to have this conversation ever again," he said as he knelt over the fallen man.

A loud crash was heard from above followed by the rattle of machine gun fire.

"Quick! Kill the fucker!" a voice shouted, which Jake instantly recognized as Donald's. A weird alien-like scream was heard that drew his attention even further.

"Whatever the hell that thing is, I'd better go see it for myself," Jake said aloud as he withdrew his S&W M629C magnum revolver and quietly admired the gun. This gun had always been one of his favorites and now he was about to use it for the first time tonight. 


	10. Chapter 9: Left Behind

Darkness Arises by E-Z B

Author's Note: To my diehard fans...I have finally updated!

Chapter Nine: Left Behind

The door leading to the basement at the back of the kitchen slowly slid open and out slid a compact mirror on the end of a brass rod that moved up and down. When the mirror observed that the coast was clear, the door flew open.

David stepped into the large, well-furnished kitchen with assault rifle drawn. He scanned the area around him in all directions before he called out to Donald, "It's clear!"

The veteran officer followed the younger S.W.A.T. officer into the room with shotgun at eye level, "All right, we search this room first and then we move out. With all the shit that's gone down tonight, I'd say we should stick together. If we find any survivors, we get them down to the basement immediately. I don't know about that fat assed Dario clutz, but that Jake really seems to know what he's doing. I'm sure he'd be more than enough protection for them. There's a delivery service next to this place too. Once we get any other survivors rounded up, I say we get over there and see if they have any workable trucks we can load the people into and then get them to the station. The military should have this entire city quarantined, so we might not be able to get out of here right away, as long as we can get them to some place safe."

"I hear you on that man," David replied as he moved between a blood-stained steel table and a counter which had been littered with numerous sharp objects, "Too many good people have died tonight because of whatever the hell is going on here and we don't need to see anymore. I swear I've seen enough death in one night to last an entire lifetime..." the S.W.A.T. officer recalled in a very somber tone as he stared into a kitchen sink turned completely red by human blood. The entire room had been a mess itself with utensils strewn everywhere and blood covering everything, but yet no bodies in sight. Seeing all of the crimson fluids desperately had him wishing that at least somebody was still alive in this building and he hoped that he could save somebody after the incident that had occurred at the barricade earlier on in the night. He had to shudder as those horrific images refused to leave him and continued to go on and on in his head.

Donald looked sympathetically towards his fellow co-worker. The man was still a young officer with a sense of duty that ran deeply in his veins. David was in every sense a mirror reflection of himself when he was a young officer starting out with the R.P.D. Back then he himself had wanted to keep every single innocent human being he encountered alive, but unfortunately for him, there had been several innocent bystanders who had died while under his watch. Yes it had torn him up inside whenever he might have come across the dead body of an innocent woman found in a back alley who had been raped and then murdered, or strangled to death by an enraged husband, or happened across the shot up body of a street walker who had either been mugged or caught in the crossfire during a shootout. There had been several bleak nights in his career where he had been forced to make the arduous trip to the home of a shooting victim and inform them that their husband, wife, son, or daughter would never be coming home again. The station had a county-appointed grief counselor whose duty was to help comfort officers who had been in situations like this before. The veteran officer had made several trips to that office during his sixteen years on the force and had become close friends with Dr. Langley, but he knew deep down that all the counseling he had received could never bring back any of those innocents who had perished.

He then began to think of his partner Cal Glover, who had been torn apart earlier tonight by those zombies at the Oak St. barricade. He and Glover had both been assigned to guard the Oak St. vicinity where lootings and muggings were at their highest and his unit had been forced to dispatch of several raucous citizens with their tear gas and water cannons. Those had been people who were still alive and were much easier to deal with. It had been around eight o'clock when several citizens had begun shambling towards the barricade. These people were different. These people had rotting skin, missing limbs, and exposed internal organs and had torn apart a teenaged boy right before their very eyes. It was then that the officers were finally forced to open fire.

It had been a scene straight out of a horror movie as the infected townspeople barreled towards them seemingly impervious to the bullets that flew towards them and began tearing into the other officers like they were nothing more than large slabs of meat. Donald and Glover had barely survived the initial onslaught and were falling backwards on their asses trying to get away from their pursuers and had looked to be close to escaping until Glover had been tackled from the side by one of the zombies and had been bitten on his calf. The rugged officer eventually managed to wrestle the beast off and shoot it in the forehead, but there were others that arrived to take its place. Donald had been there to back him up, but it was of no use as the zombies had broken past the line of patrol cars and were getting closer with every passing second. At the same time, Glover had used up all of his ammunition and would be defenseless without Donald there to back him up.

Oh how the officer had wanted to bring his co-worker and friend back to the safety of the station at all costs. Unfortunately, that was not to be.

While firing at the approaching mob, Donald fell backwards trying to reload his shotgun and at the same time, another zombie had fallen onto Cal and bit into his wrist. Yet another knelt down on top of him and tore into his throat, forever silencing his screams.

The thoughts of being unable to save his friend and co-worker were slowly tearing him apart on the inside, but he had to keep his head clear or else he would end up like Cal and the rest of his friends and colleagues back at the barricade. Yet he still couldn't help but feel bad for his friend's children. Cal's wife Delia had died from cancer three years ago and he was left with the task of raising five children on his own, thankfully all of whom were not in the city right now. His oldest daughter was in college out of state and his oldest son was currently in Washington on a camping trip with a friend's family. Both of them were young adults and capable of surviving on their own in the real world, but they still needed a father figure in their lives and now their's had been taken away from them. Not only that, he had a son who was still in his early teens, an elementary age child, and a small toddler who had been born shortly before his wife had passed away. They were all too young to fend for themselves and now they were without both parents, too young to not have a parental figure in their lives. The officer couldn't beat himself up over his inability to save Cal, but he could take solace in the fact that none of the children were around to befall the same fate as their father.

Returning his mind to the present, he saw David standing near the entrance into the main restaurant area with assault rifle ready. Donald walked up to the door and put his ear to it, listening for any sounds. He heard none. Looking over to his co-worker, he hugged the wall to the right of the door and signaled with his thumb for him to get ready. The S.W.A.T. officer nodded and then with a silent three count, he bought his foot up and kicked the door open.

"Let's move!" Donald cried and followed David into the main restaurant area, only to be stopped dead in his tracks.

What both men had just laid eyes upon was ten times worse than anything either one of them had seen earlier tonight, worse than the barricade massacres, worse than those skinless beasts with the long tongues, and worse than those reptilian freaks that had ambushed them on their way to the restaurant.

"What in the name of..." David gasped as he observed the macabre scene that lay before him.

The entire dining area was strewn with dead bodies, but there was something different about this situation. These bodies had not just been bitten into like the victims of the zombies out on the streets, but they looked like they had just literally been sent through a combine harvester. All of the bodies had deep slash marks and were missing limbs and internal organs. It was a gut-wrenching sight that had been too much even for two officers that had spent their entire night surrounded by death and chaos.

"Oh god..." David blurted out and felt the bile rise up in his throat. No longer able to contain it, he quickly removed his balaclava and emptied the contents of his stomach into a nearby trashcan.

"My word..." was all Donald could say as he witnessed the aftermath of what lay before him. He didn't want to look at it, but yet he forced himself to look. People of all different shapes, sizes, ages, and races laid dead before him torn to shreds like he had just wandered into an area containing the refuse from a slaughterhouse. This had to be the work of either those skinless lizards or those gigantic reptilians they had encountered around the city and if so, there was a good chance the beasts were probably still nearby. He clutched his shotgun for dear life and then looked back to David.

The young S.W.A.T. officer had just finished throwing up and stood buckled over as if he was going to throw up again. Donald felt bad for the kid enough, but if he didn't pull himself together he would end up dead. He had to straighten the kid out.

"David calm down..." he said approaching the younger man and placing a hand on his shoulder, "Look, I'm just as grossed out by all of this bullshit as you are, but you have to pull yourself together! We'll get whatever did this. I swear it upon the graves of all the innocents who have perished tonight we will!"

David nodded silently, but then jumped as a crash was heard from across the room, "That came from over there!"

Donald looked across the room and saw a door leading to a room that immediately caught his attention, "That came from Sonny's office! Maybe that's him. He must be in trouble! Come on!" the older officer called out and quickly made his way across the dining area, being careful to avoid direct contact with any of the corpses. The young S.W.A.T. officer followed closely behind, moving swiftly enough to avoid tripping over any detached limbs or slipping in any puddles of fresh blood. He wanted no physical contact with something that at the same time reminded him of the dismembered zombies he had encountered out on the streets. He decided to focus on Donald for now and saw the older officer run up to the office door and barge through it without even bothering to knock.

Sonny's tidy office was a welcome change from the bloody dining area Donald had just exited from. The dark brown carpeting, white walls, and dim lighting created an almost relaxing atmosphere compared to what lurked outside, yet the stench of cigar smoke still lingered in the air, reminding him of the numerous blazes he had spotted burning at random locations around the city. The bookshelves, paintings, and crafts in the room gave an almost Victorian feel to the environment, with several stuffed animal heads adding a rustic outdoor element, several awards and plaques adorning the walls giving the feeling of a doctor's office, and the numerous pictures of Sonny's family and close friends giving off a feeling of the home of a traditional, close-knit Sicilian family. An antique vase lay shattered near the mahogany desk, the cause of the sound.

"Sonny, are you in here?" Donald called out, moving cautiously into the room with shotgun raised.

Immediately, the head of a short, dark-skinned Italian man popped out from behind the desk, "D-Donald...Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me Sonny. You can come on out now and tell me what the hell just happened out there," the officer spoke lowering his shotgun.

Santino "Sonny" Maritato crawled out from underneath his desk with a magnum revolver in one hand and a bloody kitchen knife in the other. The man's white dress shirt was stained in dried blood and his black dress slacks had been nearly torn to strips. His naturally dark complected skin was a sickly pale and his dark brown eyes had been dulled by the chaos they had seen tonight. The man suddenly collapsed until he was caught by Donald, who then helped him over to a comfortable sofa near the wall. He let the older man lay back with his head rested on a pillow before he spoke again.

"All right, please tell us what happened out in the main dining area?" Donald repeated his question.

The words stung the battered restaurant owner and he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head violently, trying to block out the images of only a few hours before, but it was of no use.

Tonight had been just another seemingly normal night of heavy to moderate business at the restaurant. Despite the random murders that had been occurring around the city, the popular Italian eatery had lost very little business and tonight seemed to be just another festive night of food and fun for the families that had congregated there for the night. It was truly a pleasure to the owner to see everybody who had gathered to enjoy the pizza, pasta, strombolis, and many other traditional Sicilian dishes served at the humble establishment, which had been started by Sonny's father when he first came to the United States decades ago and it had evolved into one of Raccoon City's most popular mom and pop establishments.

Then the attack began.

Sonny had been down on the floor closely watching over the goings on to make sure that the customers were enjoying themselves and had stopped to mingle with a family when a scream came from outside.

A woman dressed in bloody clothes came racing into the restaurant claiming that she had just witnessed her boyfriend get torn apart by some large bug-like creature and now it was after her. The patrons would quickly learn what had attacked her.

A horrendous shriek followed and a large object shattered one of the front windows. The object that had flown through was indeed a bug-like creature, but with human characteristics. The critter was roughly the size of a human being covered from head to toe in hair with a face that closely resembled that of a spider and had six inch-long talons on all four of its limbs with two additional arms that sprouted out of its shoulders.

The creature leapt onto its hind legs, charging the woman and flailing away at her, sending her limbs and flesh flying all over.

By now the patrons had been horrified beyond belief and were scrambling around the floor looking for cover, destroying much of the furniture in the process. Sonny had quickly screamed for one of his waiters to call the police and had struggled to drag a shocked old man to safety. The creature meanwhile had quickly cut apart a businessman and a small child and was now making a move for a teenaged waitress.

Steadying the old man against a table, Sonny picked up a chair and heaved it at the creature, managing to temporarily distract it while the girl made her escape. The creature was now angry and charged at him, only to catch the old man and cut him into strips. Those would not be the last casualties.

Two more bug-like creatures appeared, including one that only crawled on its stomach and looked slightly different from the others. The creatures then proceeded to tear apart any other patron they could come across.

Desperately seeking shelter, the frightened owner remembered that he still had his revolver he kept locked in his desk and made a break for his office, stopping to pick up a bloody kitchen knife that had been on the body of a waiter who had foolishly tried to fight with one of the creatures. On his way to the office he could only hear the dying screams of the patrons and the sounds of flesh being sliced apart and blood splattering onto the wooden floor.

Now he was being forced to relive all of it.

"Bugs..." was all Sonny could choke out as he pressed his palms to the side of his head and began to rock from side to side.

"Bugs?" David asked dumbfoundedly as he observed from the side.

Donald looked back to his fellow officer, "Bugs? Well whatever they were, they tore this place apart. We have to get Sonny and anybody else we can out of here, them along with Jake and Dario. Can't forget those two, even if the latter is a whining, ill-tempered pig. We have to get whoever we can out of this mess alive," the older officer paused to rise back to his feet, "We're going to have to search this entire place. There's a good chance there might be other survivors around here and we have to get them out of here."

"Right!" David nodded, "But one problem. We can't risk leaving your friend here alone, but he's obviously in no condition to fight and this place is probably too dangerous for one of us to search alone by ourselves. We can't risk putting civilians into danger by letting them fight, so what do we do?"

"Dear lord," Donald muttered, but was cut off by a crash that came from behind.

Both officers twirled around to find that the ceiling tiles in Sonny's office had given way and it was one of those bug-like creatures that had attacked earlier.

"Damn...You're one ugly..." David gasped, only to be cut off by Donald.

"Cut the crap kid! Just kill it!" he shouted and fired a round of buckshot into the creature, knocking it backwards into Sonny's desk.

The creature kipped back up to its feet and was now perched on all fours and let out a horrifying shriek as it lurched forward with claws raised.

Without a word, David raised his assault rifle and fired a volley of screaming metal into the creature's body. The bullets however only managed to stun the creature.

"Quick! Kill the fucker!" Donald cried as he began firing at the monster with his shotgun.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A loud crash was heard from above followed by the rattle of machine gun fire.

"Quick! Kill the fucker!" a voice shouted, which Jake instantly recognized as Donald's. A weird alien-like scream was heard that drew his attention even further.

"Whatever the hell that thing is, I'd better go see it for myself," Jake said aloud as he withdrew his S&W M629C magnum revolver and quietly admired the gun. This gun had always been one of his favorites and now he was about to use it for the first time tonight.

"W-W-Wait!" Dario cried as he struggled back to his feet, "Don't leave me down here alone!"

Jake growled as he heard the man's whiny voice and spun around to find the man staggering towards him clutching his side.

"Please! I'm sorry!" he whined as he reached towards the younger man.

"What the hell does it take to keep this fat fuck down?" Jake thought to himself shaking his head, only to bring his foot up a split second later and nail the fat man in his groin.

"Ohhhhh!" Dario grunted, only to find a foot to the face a second later as Jake delivered a snap kick to his face that sent him skidding across the room.

Dario hit the side wall with a thud, blood gushing out of his nose and covering his shirt before he slumped to the ground.

"And stay down!" Jake growled, "Bitch!" he finished turning around and flashing his middle finger at the fallen salesman.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Get away!" David cried as he fired another stream of hot lead into the creature, knocking it backwards into one of Sonny's bookshelves. 

Still, the creature would not die and slowly staggered back to its feet, dripping its green blood all over the expensive carpeting and digging its claws into the wooden floor beneath. Rage burned brightly in the creature's beady black eyes as it let out another shriek that had nearly knocked the S.W.A.T. officer from his feet. David let out his own cry and fired into the creature until he heard a sound that shot down his adrenaline rush.

Click! Click! Click!

"Mother of..."

KA-BOOM!

The creature's "head" blew into a million tiny chunks, splattering green blood onto his uniform.

"What the..." David gasped as he turned to find Donald standing behind him with his shotgun smoking.

"Oh my god...You actually killed the thing..." the S.W.A.T. officer spoke, in awe at how a seemingly indestructible creature had just been liquidated with such great ease.

"Of course I did, what else was I supposed to do? Place it under arrest?" Donald flatly replied.

The remark brought a hearty laughter from the S.W.A.T. officer, who would immediately stop as he saw his co-worker simply shake his head at him.

"Man, to think out of the two years I've known you it has to take me blowing some trashy sci-fi alien bug creature from here to the moon in order to make you laugh. I'd say somebody needs to be institutionalized right now," Donald sighed looking to his co-worker.

"Okay, I think we need to redirect our attention to saving civilians then," David nervously spoke out of embarrassment.

More scratching was suddenly heard coming from behind the office door and both officers quickly set aside their differences and took aim at the door anticipating the next attack. Pounding and scratching were both heard at the same time followed by the clicking of talons on floor tiles. Sonny suddenly bolted up upon hearing the clicking and raised his revolver.

"Shit! Hold him back!" Donald shouted to David, who quickly ran over to the couch to hold Sonny and try to calm him down.

At the same time David held Sonny back, the door finally broke down and two creatures burst through the door tripping over each other as they made their dramatic entrance.

"Aw fuck!" Donald blurted out as he fired his shells into one of the creatures and knocked it down. The creature was severely wounded, but not dead. Getting low on shells again, the officer quickly pulled out his sidearm and fired several shots into the creature's head before it finally died.

The second creature immediately made a beeline for Sonny, only to be rattled by several rounds to its chest fired by the S.W.A.T. officer.

"Sorry, you've gotta work for that meal freak!" David said as he knocked the creature backwards and prepared to go for the kill. The second creature was completely oblivious to the weapon he held in his hands and made another charge. The S.W.A.T. officer raised his rifle and fired a final barrage into the creature's face before it fell backwards dead.

As soon as the second creature had been eliminated, Donald rushed over to the couch and threw Sonny's arm around his shoulders and helped him back to his feet, "Dammit, it's not even safe in here. We have to get anybody else we can out of here and find a damned working vehicle!"

"But where do we find one? Half the vehicles in this city are probably demolished beyond repair by now!" David shot back.

"Next door..." Sonny cut in, "There's a Raccoon Express building next door. They should have a delivery truck we could fit a bunch of people into! We'll just have to find some way in, that's all."

"I didn't even think of that, why you little rascal you!" Donald chuckled to his friend.

"Well you always were a slow one, Birdie," Sonny shot back, delivering a playful punch to his friend's shoulder.

"I told you to never call me..." Donald growled, only to be cut off by Sonny.

"Look out!" Sonny cried as he fired his revolver in the direction of a "brain sucker" creature that was sneaking up on David. Unfortunately for Sonny, he had very little experience using a firearm aside from his time on the shooting range and missed the creature by a mile, knocked backwards by the recoil of the powerful gun. His shot had missed, but he had managed to scare the creature and created an opening for David to fire upon the beast and wound it.

"Jesus, killing these fuckers doesn't get any easier," the S.W.A.T. officer spat as he withdrew his sidearm and finished the creature off with several rounds to the skull, deciding to save the assault rifle ammo for fighting future "Brain Suckers."

The sound of glass shattering came from behind the trio as they turned to find that another of the Brain Sucker's relatives had come crashing through the skylight accompanied by another of its kind.

"Die you bastards!" Sonny cried as he fired what was left of his rounds at one of the creatures, missing with most of his shots, but connecting with the last and sending more green blood raining down from above.

"Sonny, let David and I do most of the fighting. Keep your head low and look out for anything else," Donald instructed his friend, who nodded and crawled beneath a table.

Donald quickly returned his attention to the creatures above and set his sights on the beast Sonny had wounded. The creature was still shrieking in pain from its wound and slowed down as it had been struck in one of its legs and was rapidly gushing its hideous green blood all over the floor below.

"Now you're gonna go down boy...Or girl...Whatever the hell you are!" the veteran officer spoke and fired a round that the creature had barely dodged. Despite its injury, the creature still retained somewhat of its above average speed and landed on a nearby table, reducing it to splinters.

The veteran officer was not deterred by his miss and fired more rounds at the creature determined to kill it once and for all. He knew he would have to kill it fast as he mentally counted the amount of shells he was firing at the creature and knew he would have to reload soon. He was again finding himself low on ammo for his shotgun and would soon be relegated to using his sidearm and the .38 revolver he kept hidden in his shin holster. "Come on dammit!" he shouted to the creature, daring it to attack.

The "Drain Deimos" creature as Umbrella researchers called it, rose to its hind legs flailing its arms wildly and found itself walking straight into three consecutive shotgun blasts before it fell over dead for good. Donald checked his chamber to see that he only had two shells remaining and felt around his pockets only to find out that he had only two more shells left and then he was done. He silently cursed to himself as he looked over to find David still firing at the remaining creature. The young S.W.A.T. officer was handling himself very nicely in that situation and within seconds had eliminated the creature with a carefully aimed shot to the center of the creature's forehead.

"Is that the last of them?" Sonny sheepishly asked as he stuck his head out from underneath the table.

As if on cue, another crash was heard and yet another Drain Deimos emerged from the shadows and set its sights on Donald.

"Fuck!" Donald cried firing another shell at the creature, only to have the creature tackle him to the floor and knock his shotgun from his hands.

"Donald!" David cried raising his rifle to fire.

BLAM!

The creature's head exploded in a slimy green mist that nearly blinded Donald as he lay on the blood-stained floor.

Startled by the abrupt blast, David turned around to find none other than Jake standing behind him with a smoking magnum in hand.

"Jake? What are you doing up here? You were told to stay down in the basement! And where the hell is Dario?" David demanded as he approached the career criminal.

"I overheard the gunfire and weird alien screams. Figured I'd come up and see what the hell is going on, and Dario...He got a little messed up and he's still downstairs waiting for us," Jake smirked with the last statement.

David's jaw fell beneath his balaclava, "You didn't..."

"Relax, relax!" Jake said raising his hands in defense, "I didn't kill the guy, but I did shut him up," he slyly smiled lowering his hands, "I don't think he'll be giving us any crap for the rest of the night."

The S.W.A.T. officer gave a small chuckle and shook his head, "Man...Normally I'd be forced to place you under arrest for such an offense, but with all the crap going on tonight and him being the ill-tempered pig he's been to all of us, I think I'm just gonna let you off with a warning and tell you to never do that again...At least not without me getting my fair share of the pie first!" he laughed.

As the two men joked around, Sonny helped Donald back to his feet and returned his shotgun to him. "Any idea where there could be more survivors?" Donald asked.

"I think I might know a place. Follow me!" Sonny instructed as he ran towards the back of the main dining area and led the officers to a door labeled "STORAGE" and knocked on the door.

"Anybody in there?" he called out and tried his luck opening the door.

There was no reply for a few seconds until the timid voice of a young man was heard, "H-Hello?"

Sonny immediately recognized the voice and began pounding on the door, "R.J., open up! It's Sonny!"

"No way Mr. M! Those things are still out there! You have to find cover fast!" the young waiter shouted back.

Donald took charge of the situation and wrapped on the door twice before he spoke, "Open up! This is Officer Donald Byrd of the Raccoon Police Department! We have the situation under control and are ready to evacuate you and any other possible survivors you might have in there with you! Come out immediately and we might be able to get you to safety!"

The sound of some plastic crates being knocked over was heard before the door came flying open. Young R.J. Ferrell stood before the four men with a broken scrub brush in hand and quickly bent over breathing heavily and resting his palms upon his knees. He wore a white dress shirt and black dress pants that were required as part of the restaurant's employee dress code, both of which had been torn and covered in blood. His short black hair he wore in a crewcut had been matted down by a combination of sweat and blood. The dark mahogany skin of his arms still carried specks of dried blood and he wore a large bandage on his left forearm. 

The young man panted heavily before he spoke, "Goddayam Mr. M! What tha' fuck is goin' 'round here? Those muthafucka's tore through this house like it was nothin'!"

"I have no clue, R.J. Is anybody else in here with you?" Sonny asked trying to peer into the small room.

"Yeah, there's Denise and some cop. You'd better check tha' guy out. He looks pretty bad," the waiter said leading the four into the room.

Restaurant waitress Denise Carlin was at the back of the storage closet kneeling over the wounded form of veteran R.P.D. officer Ray Wilkes. Officer Wilkes had been patrolling the area when he was dispatched to the restaurant, where the station had received a frantic cell phone call from a patron who claimed that other people were being torn apart by some weird bug-like creatures. Initially taking the call as a bad prank, there was something heard in the caller's rushed screams that told him that this person was not joking around and he immediately reported to the restaurant only to find the bodies of several people lying on the sidewalk looking like they had just been hacked to pieces. Screams came from inside the building and he rushed in only to find another horrific sight.

Innocent bystanders left and right were being torn to shreds by the bug-like creatures the dispatcher had reported and he had spotted one that was about to cut up a teenaged girl when his training kicked in and he raised his H&K VP-70 handgun and began firing at the creatures that stood in front of him. He had only managed to wound one of the creatures before another raised its talon and slashed him viciously across his chest. Some brave citizens had found him and dragged him all the way to the back storage closet where he was presently being attended to by a young waitress named Denise.

David and Donald quickly ran over to their fallen comrade and knelt down beside him.

"Ray!" Donald shouted, "Are you all right? Speak to me!"

The pain coursed throughout the stocky officer's body and he was beginning to feel light-headed from the blood loss and could barely hear his co-worker's booming voice, "Uh...Byrd? Byrd...Look out...Bugs!" the man shouted raising his arm into the air, only to be restrained by Denise.

"Calm down, officer. You have to save your strength," she spoke with great urgency. She had only received rudimentary first-aid training in dealing with major cuts, but nothing on this level. The young woman tried in vain to stop the man's bleeding as she firmly pressed the bloody towels against the gash on his chest, but it was doing no good and he continued to lose blood.

"Donald..." he weakly muttered, "...Make those bastards pay..." he strained to speak before his grip weakened and his eyes rolled back into his head. Another life had been claimed in the chaos that had consumed tonight.

"Dammit!" Donald shouted driving his fist into a nearby pile of crates. The man rose back to his feet and kicked over a cleaning cart slammed his fist into a nearby locker expelling a plethora of curses from his mouth. David reached down and closed Officer Wilkes' eyes out of a sign of respect and draped the man's jacket over his face. He then helped Denise back to her feet and led her away from the officer's corpse. R.J. stood staring blankly at Jake and Sonny, the latter of whom immediately exited the room while Jake stood silently staring at the officer's corpse.

"Come on! Let's just get out of here before anybody else has to die!" Donald shouted angrily as he scooped up his shotgun and made his way out a back door that lead to the Raccoon Express building next door. The others looked silently to each other before they followed the man. Jake still stared quietly at the freshly deceased officer with a look of grim determination upon his chiseled features. He kept telling himself at the back of his mind that he was going to make it out of this mess alive, no he NEEDED to make it out of this mess alive.

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Despite being an exporting warehouse, the Raccoon Express building was kept rather clean. All of the large crates in the main storage area were kept in even, orderly stacks that nearly reached to the rafters, as well as several steel drums present that were all perfectly lined up. The unusual cleanliness made it easy for the group of seven survivors to pick out a delivery truck that had been parked near one of the garage doors, suggesting it may have been about to go on a delivery run when the outbreak first occurred.

Jake sat on a crate against one of the walls slowly drinking from a water bottle. Upon discovering that the building was empty, the other survivors had raided a refrigerator in the small employee break room and made themselves small meals, anticipating that this would be the last time in quite a while they would get a regular meal. There wasn't much so the seven people had to make the most of it.

Dario Russo sat across from Jake slowly eating what was left in a box of donuts that had been abandoned on a counter in the break room. The career criminal wanted to keep a close eye on this man so he could make sure he wouldn't rat him out over what he had done to him down in the restaurant's basement.

The fat man currently had two pieces of tissue plugging up his bleeding nostrils and the blood from before had dried on the white shirt he wore beneath his light brown jacket. He ate his donuts slowly and sheepishly sipped from the coffee he had gotten from the coffee machine. He could feel Jake's harsh blue-gray eyes glaring daggers upon him and did not want to do anything to further infuriate the larger man. Feeling a small bit of sudden confidence, the man slowly turned his head to the career criminal and made quick eye contact with him.

His lips twisting into a frown, Jake slowly drew his thumb across his throat and made a barely audible growl that would have made a wolf proud. Without a sound, Dario quickly returned his attention to the chocolate longjohn he had been feasting on.

With the salesman's attention turned away from him, Jake looked around at the other survivors present. David sat on the steel steps leading to the supervisor's office on the second floor. The man had removed his balaclava and had finally had a chance to wash his face and was now in the middle of chowing down on a meal from Burger Kong he had found abandoned in the break room. The man's assault rifle rested on the step next to him. The second anything non-human prepared to strike he would be ready.

Donald sat near him drinking a can of Coca Cola and eating a Hot Pocket. The man seemed to be scarfing down his meal, wanting to get out of here as fast as he could so he could get to his wife and kids back at the station, as well as preserve the lives of the innocents currently with him.

Sonny sat down next to him and began to strike up a small conversation with him as he opened up his own can of Coca Cola and a bag of soy food. The man had been through a lot tonight and had now seemingly lost his place of business to the madness unfolding tonight. Despite all of that, he seemed to be in good spirits right now and even happier to just be alive.

R.J. and Denise sat near the delivery truck that the survivors had intended to use for their method of escape. Both of them were eating small meals and chatting quietly amongst themselves, almost like they were on a date. The young woman had her long brownish-blonde hair tied back in a ponytail and had since changed out of her work shirt, now wearing a red t-shirt that advertised the popular rock group "Vic E."

The scene he currently found himself in reminded him much of just hours before when he had been barricaded in the staff quarters of J's Bar with the other group of survivors when all of the madness had started. As soon as the survivors finished their meal they would climb into the delivery truck R.J. and Denise currently sat by and try to make their way to the police station. What happened from there would be up to the rest of the surviving higher-ups at the station.

Jake set down the water bottle and looked over to Donald and Sonny, where they had now pulled out a map of the downtown area and were discussing possible routes that could get them to the police station in the quickest amount of time. David stood over them and was adding his own input on the situation. The rest of the survivors sat off to the sides finishing their small meals and chatted quietly amongst themselves as they waited for the officers to finish planning out their strategy. David had given his spare Browning HP to R.J. and Denise had grabbed an aluminum baseball bat found in an employee's locker. Dario had grabbed a crowbar found in a toolbox near the building's main service elevator and sat quietly on his crate still scared to make any sudden movements with the career criminal present. He would just have to shoot a threatening glare in the smaller man's direction and he was instantly melted.

"Alright people, we've got our escape route planned," Donald stated laying the map of the downtown area on the crate, "We're going to take the street we're currently on, Packard Dr., and then make our way to the Memorial Intersection near City Hall where we will then take Billings St. near the Raccoon Press building and take a right from there onto Pardee St. We would be only a block away from the station then. Knowing the boys, they'd probably have roadblocks set up and I don't think they'd take too kindly to a non-police vehicle trying to gain access to the station at a time like this, so we might have to ditch the thing and go on foot. We should have plenty of weapons to hold off any baddies outside until then."

The veteran officer then turned his attention to David, "I will drive us there. David, I want you up front with me. You're going to be my gunner, anything that comes within five feet of the truck that doesn't look human, I want you to shoot on sight!"

The S.W.A.T. officer nodded silently.

He then turned his attention to the rest of the survivors, "The rest of you I want in the back. Do not come out until we give the okay! Jake, you're the most well-armed out of all them and it will be your duty to guard everybody else."

Jake nodded quietly.

"What?" Dario bellowed, "You're entrusting our safety to this loose cannon? What-"

"Can it Russo! We don't have much choice. Next to Officer McGraw and myself, Jake's probably the most capable of fighting his way out of this mess. Who else would you rather have guarding your sorry behind? One of those bug freaks from the restaurant?"

The career criminal sighed inwardly, "Man, with the ass whooping I gave this pig you'd think he'd finally get it, wouldn't you?"

A shadow suddenly caught everybody's attention and they looked up to see one of the bug-like creatures from the restaurant climbing across the skylight. David raised his rifle to fire, but was stopped by Donald. The other civilians opened their mouths to scream, but were cut off as Jake placed his right hand to his lips with index finger raised and motioned for them to remain quiet.

Moans were suddenly heard from outside followed by pounding on the aluminum garage doors.

"Dayam, these undead freaks got major chips on their shoulders," R.J. blurted out raising the gun and making sure his clip was fully loaded.

"We're fucked..." Dario whined sounding like he was going to cry until Jake wrapped his hand around the man's mouth.

"Shit," David whispered to Donald, "We've got one of those bugs crawling above us and God knows how many zombies outside. If we open the door who knows how many could come flooding in."

"Start the truck now," Donald ordered, cocking his handgun.

Looking above him for any signs of the bug creature, David quickly rushed over to the truck and jumped in and quickly turned the ignition.

"What do we do?" Sonny inquired, "We can't just open the doors..."

"We don't have much choice, Sonny," Donald replied, "We'll just have to shoot our way through as many as we can until we can get the truck out of here. He then looked over to Dario and Denise, "The three of you, get in the truck now," and then looked to R.J., "Stay out here with me and help us fight the creatures off while we wait for the door to open." The young waiter hesitantly nodded his head. He then turned his attention towards Jake, "Jake, watch my back. I'm going to open one of the doors."

Jake did as told and followed closely behind as the officer approached a green button near the door the truck was parked in front of. He looked back to see David waiting in the passenger's seat with rifle ready. If anything happened he would be ready to leap over and drive the truck out himself. R.J. stood near the back of the truck ready to leap in when told to do so. Donald looked back to him and nodded before hitting the button.

The mechanical door screeched loudly and struggled to open. Almost immediately several feet popped out from under the open door and the two men immediately stepped backward.

"Get ready to fire!" Donald shouted over the sound of the groaning door and took a position near the truck. The door opened slowly, yet several zombies were already crawling underneath and slowly rising back to their feet.

"Now!" Donald cried and fired upon the invading zombies.

Jake withdrew his dual Berettas and started shooting at the undead hordes, dropping two right away and then dropping another as he dove for cover behind a crate.

David smashed open the passenger window with the butt of his rifle and stuck most of his upper body out the window and dropped several zombies with rapid fire bursts, producing several head shots in the process. He could see that there were about twenty zombies in all and they were quickly closing in on the truck.

"Holy son of a motherfuck!" R.J. shouted and began firing wildly into the wall of undead, managing to score two lucky shots that dropped two zombies dead for good. Most of his shots were not connecting and he was beginning to panic. He fired until his clip ran dry, "Mother..."

Before the obscenity could be finished, a crash came from above and large shards of glass rained down upon the young waiter and a figure landed behind him. The young man didn't have time to fully turn around as the creature wrapped its many arms around him and used its tendrils to tear his skull open and suck his brain out.

"R.J.!" Sonny and Denise cried out simultaneously.

"Murdering bastard!" Sonny cried and fired his revolver at the creature, catching it while it still held onto the young waiter's remains and slowing it down. The man wasn't done there as he jumped out of the truck and fired his remaining rounds into the bug-like creature until it moved no more.

"Mr. Maritato look out!" Denise cried from the truck.

Sonny whirled around to find a tall zombie standing over him with its rotting yellow teeth bared and the smell of rotten fruit assaulting his senses. The creature roared and grabbed the owner by the shoulders, digging its teeth into his neck.

"Get away from him!" Donald cried from behind and shot the creature in the back of its head. He threw the dead zombie aside and grabbed his friend as he collapsed to the floor.

"Oh god...Sonny! Sonny can you hear me? Answer me!" he cried shaking his friend's head. The wounded man looked up to him with a horrified expression and opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't due to the pain. Donald was shocked beyond belief and looked away as he cradled his fallen friend in his arms.

Jake stood silently as he wasted yet another zombie that approached him. The zombies had been much greater in number than originally thought and were still coming in. By now him and David were the only people fighting the zombies as the S.W.A.T. officer shot down several zombies that were closing in on the truck. The career criminal jumped as the officer fired a shot that was dangerously close to him, but then looked over his shoulder to find that the man had been aiming at a zombie crawling on the ground that hadn't been killed yet. He suddenly realized that Donald had not been helping out and looked over to see Donald cradling a wounded Sonny in his arms. The man had been bitten by a zombie and this meant only one thing, he would have to be killed before he could become one of the living dead himself.

More zombies were closing in on the career criminal and he fired upon them as he backed his way towards the veteran officer and his wounded friend. He continued dropping zombies that approached him and looked ahead to see that David was doing a good job of holding off any zombies that came within a foot of the truck. He was soon close enough to the two men.

"One of those bastards bit him!" Donald shouted over the popping of Jake's handguns, "We have to get him out of here now!"

Jake quickly stopped what he was doing and grabbed the man by the shoulder, "No! We can't. He's been bitten by a zombie. He's more of a danger to us now than he was before. You might have no other choice but to..." the criminal didn't want to finish the sentence, knowing he would get an angry backlash for his suggestion.

"No! I can't kill this man! He's been my friend for years..." the officer trailed, his voice cracking.

The career criminal helped the officer back to his feet, "I'm sorry Donald, it's either we put him to rest now while he's still human, or he'll become one of those rotting freaks and try to turn you into a midnight snack. I know this guy is probably a close friend of yours, but once he's one of them he won't give a shit. All he'll care about is feasting on that ass of yours. You can't reason with these freaks. Trust me, you'll be doing him a favor."

Donald looked down to his friend, who had now passed out from blood loss, "No, I can't do it, I just can't." The officer then looked up to the career criminal, "I'm sorry to lay this burden upon your shoulders, but I just can't do it myself. You'll have to do it for me."

Jake looked the officer deeply in the eyes. He could see anger, yet at the same time pity. He could tell that the man did not want to lose his close friend, but at the same time he didn't want to see him become a mindless zombie doomed to forever wander the earth in search of his next meal and nothing else. The man would be able to understand what he was doing and gave him a grim nod.

"Get in the truck, I'll handle this," Jake said cocking his pistol.

He turned his attention away from the police officer and looked down to the restaurant owner. The man was no longer moving. He was dead...For now. Within moments he would rise up and attack the first thing he saw if he wasn't stopped first. The career criminal trained his gun on the man's forehead and pulled the trigger.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dario watched in horror as he watched Jake unload a single round into the fallen restauranteur's skull. "Oh my god!" he screamed. He had to get out of here and far away from that madman.

He looked over to see Denise sitting across from him clutching her aluminum baseball bat for dear life and to see Donald climbing into the truck with his head sagging. The salesman then turned his attention to the front of the truck where David was firing upon the zombies approaching the truck. He then looked to the driver's seat to see that the truck had been started and was idling as it waited for all of the remaining survivors to enter.

"We have to get out of here!" Dario screeched as he tripped over some cardboard boxes that separated the cargo area from the front seats. He made a dive for the driver's seat.

"Dario, what are you doing?" David shouted as the portly salesman nearly fell on top of him. The man didn't answer and quickly climbed into the driver's seat.

"No! Not everybody's in here yet! Jake's still out there fighting those zombies!" the S.W.A.T. officer shouted as he had turned his attention over to the salesman and was fighting to prevent him from putting the truck into gear.

"That guy's a maniac! We have to get away from him!" the salesman protested as he fought against the younger officer's stronger grip.

"We can't leave without Jake!" Denise shouted from the back as she peeked her head out to see that Jake was still gunning down zombies approaching the truck.

"Fuck him!" Dario screamed as he wrestled with the S.W.A.T. officer.

"We're not leaving any man behind!" David shouted as he grabbed a fistful of the salesman's bloody shirt and threw him against the driver's side window. The portly man had been stunned by the force at which he connected, but before the S.W.A.T. officer could capitalize, an icy hand reached through the broken window and grabbed him by the arm. He turned to see a zombie in a bloody brown sweater had climbed the step and was now reaching through in an attempt to pull the young officer out.

"Get off him you bastard!" Donald shouted and fired a round into the creature's face and then an extra one at another zombie that had attempted to climb up behind the first one and saw that several more were trying to climb onto the truck.

With the officers distracted, Dario saw his chance and strapped on his seatbelt and stomped the gas pedal to the floor. The tires screeched throughout the building and the truck sped out at full force plowing over anything that stood in its way.

"No! We can't leave without Jake!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The sound of rubber peeling on the cold pavement filled Jake's ears as he was in the middle of shooting at the approaching zombies.

He spun around to see the Raccoon Express delivery truck speeding out of the building and plowing through an entire wave of zombies entering the building.

"No! Come back!" he cried.

He had been left behind in a warehouse full of zombies and there was only one person he could think of who seemed to have enough nerve to leave him behind without giving him the chance to get in the truck.

"DARIO!" he roared to the sky as he almost felt the urge to chase down the truck and shoot its tires out. He wanted to teach Mr. Russo more than a lesson in pain right now. That fat pig had left him behind to die and now he seriously wanted to track down that man and hang him by his bulbous gut and cut him up with whatever blade he could get his hands on. That would have to wait because he was running low on ammo at the moment and needed to find an escape route.

Jake turned around to see several zombies staggering towards him ready to claim their next kill. Both of his pistols were on their final clips and he would need his magnum for the more powerful enemies he would encounter. He slipped both firearms back into their holsters and withdrew his katana sword. 

He looked at the zombies before him and pictured them transforming into multiple Darios. That was all the motivation he would need right there.

With a twirl of his blade, Jake rushed at a zombie and impaled it through the chest, twisting the blade and bringing it up so it split the zombie from the chest to the top of its head. He spun his body around and cleanly decapitated a zombie that stood to his side. He then spun around and tripped another zombie from its feet and brought his blade down into the back of the creature's skull. Another zombie tried to grab the career criminal from behind, but he spun around and drove the blade straight into the monster's gut till it pierced the monster's spinal cord and it fell to the ground, he then finished it by stomping its skull in.

Through all of the walking corpses the career criminal managed to spot a back exit and decided he would escape through there. He leapt into the air and performed a flying roundhouse kick that knocked a zombie out of his way and then leapt up and did a vertical kick that snapped another's head backwards. He brought his blade up and stabbed another in the throat, letting it fall to the ground. Jake spun his body around again and performed a deadly backfist on a zombie that stood to his side and spun his body around with his blade raised and took off the former human's head.

"Almost there!" he thought to himself as he tackled an approaching zombie to the floor and then slid between the legs of another in front of him. He charged with his blade outward slicing another in half and then twisted his body into the air to execute a deadly spinning kick that sent a smaller zombie sailing into the air. He landed hard on his feet and twisted his body with the blade at an arc that left a nasty gash across the chest of another zombie and did an inverted roundhouse kick that caved another's face in.

The door now stood in front of him and he brought his foot up kicking the door open with a force that nearly knocked it from its hinges and threw himself out into the dark alley.

"Damn..." Jake muttered quietly. The quiet of the alley he had just wandered into was quickly broken by the rattle of machine gun fire coming from around the corner followed by some loud obscenities.

He ran around the corner to find a powerfully-built man just under six feet tall armed with an assault rifle outnumbered and trying to fight off a small pack of zombies by himself. Several bullet-riddled corpses already lay at his feet and he looked to the man's right to see a portable gas tank with a torch attachment laying on the ground. The man had a cut on his shoulder and was bleeding from the neck.

"Eat this and die!" he screamed as he fired everything he had into the creatures, but one of them managed to push past all the gunfire and grab a hold of him and he brought his fist up trying to punch the monster off.

Jake pulled out one of his Berettas and fired a round into the zombie's cranium and the man punched it off for good. He didn't have time to thank the career criminal as the zombies continued to press forth and he quickly fired at their heads. The younger criminal ran up alongside him and started shooting at the zombies, dropping them at a faster rate and they eventually all fell over dead.

"Thanks man," the man grunted as he braced himself against a nearby wall, "I couldn't get that damned thing off of me. If it wouldn't have been for you, I'd be a goner!" he spoke in a rather loud, boisterous tone that sounded like a drill sergeant's bark.

"No problem," the career criminal replied as he had finally managed to get a better look at the man. The man was dressed like a soldier wearing tan cargo pants, black knee pads, black combat boots, a forest green bandana on his head, black fingerless gloves, and a short-sleeved green shirt underneath a black flak jacket that bore the Umbrella symbol with two swords crossing in front of it. 

"So this guy works for Umbrella, huh?" Jake thought to himself, "If they employ grunts like this then who knows what could be crawling around where this Birkin freak could be hiding at," he thought as he read the man's name tag which read "Reso."

"Son of a bitch!" Reso grunted as he clutched his neck wound.

"Are you hurt?" Jake asked with acted sympathy.

"Ugh! I got bitten a couple times, but I'll be all right. It's gonna take more than some whacked out townspeople to put "The Tank" out of commission!" he proclaimed flexing his right arm muscles.

Jake's eyes widened a little as he realized that the man had been infected, but he didn't have time to tell the man as the metal gate at the end came swinging open and more zombies began piling into the cramped alley.

"Shit! Here comes more of those damned crackheads!" Reso shouted and fired bursts into the approaching crowd. He continued firing until his rifle clicked empty. "Fuck!" he spat as he realized he wouldn't have time to reload as the zombies grew closer and he quickly threw the rifle to the ground and withdrew a sidearm Sigpro SP2009 handgun and continued firing into the crowd.

The career criminal stood alongside the soldier and continued firing into the crowd, dropping three right away. He too was getting low on ammunition and would soon be down to just his magnum. Bullet after bullet tore into the crowd of zombies and more dropped left and right, but there were still too many of them and two quickly grabbed onto Reso and started biting into him tearing chunks out of his left shoulder and chest. He could only scream as they tore into him and tried to fire into one of them, only to strike a nearby window with a wild shot. Jake saw this and tried to fire into both of the zombies only to have one of his guns click empty and was dangerously low on the other. Before he knew it, a zombie had grabbed onto Jake and started wrestling with him.

"Sorry fuck-face," Jake grunted as he used his strength to create enough distance where the zombie would not be able to bite into him and he quickly raised his remaining gun and fired a point blank shot into the monster's face.

More gunfire came from behind the career criminal and he looked to find the last two zombies drop dead before him. He then looked to find Reso laying against the wall with his handgun still pointing at the dead zombies and breathing heavily full of rage. The two other zombies that had been on top of him lay dead around him, but had seriously injured him in the process. Random bite marks were present all over his arms and chest, as well as a hideous bite that had torn a chunk of flesh from his cheek. There was no hope left for this man. In a few minutes he would become one of them. The man called Reso looked up to him and began chuckling.

"Good aim huh?" he laughed harshly and with a heave reached into a compartment within his flak jacket and pulled out two clips and offered them to Jake, "Here...Take...These..."

The career criminal studied the large clips and saw that they were for the assault rifle the man had been carrying.

"They're for my assault rifle. I did have more...But I wasted them on those rotting freaks...I took out a whole shitload of them on the street before here...I tried to find shelter...And try to find some way to get into touch with my squadmates...But they're probably...All dead by now..." he trailed off spitting out some blood.

Jake nodded to the man, "I'm sorry there wasn't more I could do to save you."

Reso laughed at the comment, "Don't worry about me buddy...I never had a chance anyway...My comrades didn't either...Those things have probably torn all of them apart by now..." He coughed out more blood, "Just get out of here kid...Live!" The man trembled a little before he reached for his handgun and put it to his head. A smile spread across his face as he pulled the trigger.

"This guy and his comrades? Looks like there's more of these types in the city. Umbrella started this mess, maybe he was here as part of a clean up team or just here to save civilians. I doubt those rats would want anybody to leave this city alive. They have a reputation to protect and I'm sure they wouldn't want anybody getting out and spreading the word of the goings on around here," Jake thought to himself. He picked up his empty handgun that he dropped and then checked his other handgun to see that he only had eight rounds left in the current clip with no extra ammunition in reserve. He then turned his attention to the assault rifle the man had dropped and examined it to see that it was a Colt M4A1 assault rifle commonly used by the military. It used 5.56mm NATO rounds and could be switched back and forth between manual and automatic firing modes. He left it on manual mode to conserve ammo.

"At least I have another little friend to help me out of this mess," he said as he lovingly inspected his assault rifle and then looked back to the deceased mercenary and briefly bowed his head in homage before continuing on.

As the man moved forward he swore he could hear more machine gun fire and explosions in the distance.

A/N: There another chapter has finally been posted! As you can see Noctorro, I drew that pig Dario's blood just for you! Read and review! 


	11. Interlude: Cries of the Forsaken

Darkness Arises by E-Z B

Interlude: Cries of the Forsaken

Gunfire and explosions ripped through the nighttime air followed closely by the moans of the undead, the feral, animalistic shrieks of other mutated creatures, and the dying cries of ordinary human beings being cut up and served up as main course meals.

TATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATAT!

KA-BOOM!

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"Lay me down some fucking cover fire goddammit!" a nameless soldier shouted to his comrades as he fired round after round from his M4A1 carbine assault rifle into the approaching zombies that stood before him.

"I'm trying, but there's too many of them!" another shouted back over the popping of the assault rifles.

"Just shut up and focus on killing these rotting freaks!" a gruff, older soldier shouted as he had just run out of ammo for his M4A1 assault rifle and was now down to using his Sigpro SP2009 sidearm on his attackers.

"Eat this and die you freaks!" a man wearing a beret atop his head called out as he chucked a fragmentation grenade into a mass of gathering zombies. His toss ended with a loud clunk and within seconds all of the zombies had been decimated.

Several shots rang out from above and one by one, zombies marching down the street from yards away began dropping like dominoes. The men looked up to a rooftop to see one of their comrades armed with a PSG-1 sniper rifle dropping several of the walking corpses with graceful, precise shots that blew up their heads like a goo-filled pinatas at some kid's birthday party.

"Help, one of those things bit Montoya!" a soldier with a thick Australian accent called out as he dragged along a wounded Spaniard who had been bitten in his right shoulder and was delirious from blood loss.

The moans of the undead wafted throughout the brisk nighttime air of this fateful September night and in the distance the cracks of more assault rifles and handguns could be heard, along with the earth shattering explosion of a large tanker truck being detonated near a gas station.

"Dammit Carlos, look what your youthful ambition got you into now!" Carlos Oliveira thought to himself as he raced down a war-torn street with several of his comrades from the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasures Service flanking him from all sides. It had been hours since they had been dropped off in downtown Raccoon City for their rescue mission and almost immediately they had been attacked by a parade of the undead. Already several of his colleagues had been either killed or separated and he currently ran with a disorganized group of survivors from the five other units that had touched down in the city.

"Tyrell, cover my six will you?" Murphy shouted to Tyrell Patrick as he aimed his gun over his shoulder to fire at several zombies that had burst through the display window of a Binco clothing store.

"Here, this should slow them down!" Tyrell replied as he pulled a grenade from his vest and chucked it over his shoulder back at the zombies chasing them down.

Carlos looked over to Murphy and smiled. He was thankful to see that his best friend was still alive and well in all of this madness, but several others from their chalk hadn't been as fortunate.

Upon reaching the streets below, Arturo Chavez was one of the first to be attacked and he had raised his M4A1 and fired into the surrounding attackers, but his gunfire seemingly had no effect on any of them and they quickly tore into him, leaving only a few bloody strips of flesh left clinging to his small body.

Wolf was the next to fall as he began mowing down all of the attackers with his powerful M-249 S.A.W., only to have them rise back up seconds later and grab him from behind tearing into the back of his neck and shoulders.

Almost immediately after the slaughter of his two teammates, Shane would fall out of line with the group trying to gun down several zombies that were striking at him from the sides and chase him down a dark alley. He hadn't been heard from since. The same could be said about John Wicklow, Gerhard Schmidt, and Hank Reso. He could almost take solace in the fact that Murphy, Tyrell, and hell even creepy Nicholai were still at his side and were gunning down attacking creatures along with several soldiers from the other accompanying units.

"Fire! Fire! Stay together!" Nicholai shouted to his men as he fired upon two zombies that had approached him from his right. He cursed loudly in Russian as his rifle clicked empty and he was again forced to reload.

"Get away!" Murphy cried firing a barrage into several zombies that stood at his side, managing to drop most of them with head shots. His leftovers were quickly taken care of by a marksman from Captain Hirami's group named Dustin Portland. The Texan had killed the most out of the group he currently ran with thanks to his superior marksmanship skills and was already very good at conserving his ammo.

"Bastards!" Angus Riley shouted as he crippled a zombie with a shot to its spinal cord and then dropped another with a wild headshot.

Despite all of the zombies dropping around them, the mercenaries were running low on ammo and supplies and were all exhausted from the hours of fighting they had just been put through and they needed to find shelter fast or end up like their fallen comrades and everybody else who had perished in this city only to join the ranks of the walking dead.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The sturdy wooden door slowly pushed open followed by the muzzle of an M4A1 carbine assault rifle, "It's clear!" a voice called out.

Two men dressed in typical U.B.C.S. mercenary garb entered the small office, one a middle-aged Caucasian with short blonde hair and a burly build, the other a slightly younger African-American who was completely bald with a thick beard and mustache and wearing a beret atop his head.

"Let's do a full sweep, anybody we find is coming with us!" ordered the blonde-haired man as he scanned the perimeter with rifle raised.

The two men had entered the top floor office area of the Mattigan Market Research Consultants building and entered to find the place completely ransacked and deserted. The floor's immaculate black and white tiles had been defiled by dust, dried muddy footprints, and what appeared to be a few puddles of blood. Papers and multicolored file folders littered the floor, as did smashed plants, overturned filing cabinets, wrecked swivel chairs, remnants of wrecked computers, an overturned water cooler that leaked all over a small area of green carpeting, empty cans and candy wrappers, and pictures of family members. The two men suddenly found their attention caught by a large pool of blood that led to a back office labeled "Adam Jacobs, Manager" and approached the small office with caution.

"Get ready, we might find something," the blonde soldier ordered and his partner took a position at the right of the door. With a quick nod, the blonde soldier kicked the door open and flew into the room only to stand quietly in disbelief.

The room was decorated in dark crimson blood, but there were no bodies in sight.

"Where are they?" the African-American soldier asked. The loud ding of an elevator was heard from behind and then the smell of garbage.

"What..." the first soldier turned around and was quickly cut off by a pack of zombies closing in on himself and his comrade.

"NEVER!" the soldier cried as he fired everything he had into the approaching monsters before they silenced him and the other soldier forever.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They were all dead.

Dean, Leland, Sergio, Jude, Sven, Kio, Pierre, Roman, Arn...

All dead and gone...Torn apart by those ravenous freaks of nature.

Cedric ran down the back alley with a whole bunch of those creatures still hot on his tail. He had watched in horror as an entire pack of those "things" back there had torn apart Dean and Leland like they were nothing for no apparent reason and just minutes earlier he had witnessed Jude accidentally blow himself up after he had been tossing grenades at zombies coming at him from all directions.

He didn't want to end up like any of them. He wanted to get back home to his beautiful wife Emma, who was pregnant with their first child, and just be with her forever and ever away from all of this madness. The young soldier mentally kicked himself repeatedly for being such a greedy bastard. Fifty thousand dollars wasn't worth putting his life on the line in a situation like this of all times, but at the time he had wanted to provide for his wife and unborn child. "I should've been a doctor or lawyer, something better than this," the soldier thought to himself.

An iron gate stood in front of him and the man did a football tackle right through it and found a thin lead pipe that he used to hold the gate shut.

Cedric braced himself against a dumpster and was panting heavily. That was literally the fastest he had ever run in his entire life and also the most frightened he had ever been. He had seen plenty of combat in the past, whether it be his service in the Persian Gulf War, rescuing important Umbrella researchers from an HCF facility disguised as an urban office complex, or battling disgruntled Umbrella employees hiding out in the woods of the Pacific Northwest who were threatening to go public with information regarding the company's secret biological weapons program. Back then though, he was battling ordinary human beings who could easily be intimidated by his powerful weapons and would get shot in a critical area and never get up again. These things were once human, but not anymore.

Sighing heavily, the man pulled out his radio and spoke into it, "Alpha 2, this is Cpl. Merchant, do you copy?" he shouted into the radio.

Nothing but static could be heard on the other end.

"Alpha 2, this is Merchant, do you read me? Over." he said, this time in a more frantic tone.

Still he heard nothing but static, almost as if everybody else was already dead.

"No...It can't be..." he muttered, "Captain Hirami, are you there? Lt. Victor? Sgt. Ginovaef? Anybody? Is anybody out there?" he shouted frantically, "This is Cpl. Merchant! I am alone and cut off from the rest of my platoon. Those "things" out there have killed all of my squadmates and I am the only one left, now is anybody out there to back me up at all?" he whimpered, almost on the verge of tears.

Still nothing was heard.

"Dammit!" he shouted throwing the radio against the wall across from him so hard it smashed into a million tiny pieces. "God!" he shouted falling back against the wall and banging his head against it as he tried to get the images of death and madness out of his mind, trying to convince himself that all of this was nothing more than a horrible dream and that he needed to wake up. But he couldn't, this nightmare was all too real. He was going to die and he knew it. Nobody could survive this mess, nobody he thought.

With those thoughts, Cedric Merchant looked down to the assault rifle he held in his hands. If he was going to die, he would go down fighting. He pushed himself up and continued down the alley he had been in and ran into an open courtyard area where an entire group of zombies had congregated and fired at anything that moved.

"Come to me you bastards!" he screamed like a man possessed and had already dropped several zombies before him, but they soon got up and resumed their pursuit of him. The man knew he was going to die and wanted to die fighting.

"You want some more!" he cried as all he could see in front of him were the flash of his muzzle and the rotting arms stretching out towards him. A second later he was pinned between all of the corpses and could feel them tearing through his clothing and into his warm flesh. He screamed all the way down to the ground as the zombies piled on top of him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jonas sat alone in the dark alley clutching his small lavender diary that lay in his lap before him. He had read through the small book hoping to reflect upon the more positive times in his life and give himself some peace before he joined his deceased comrades in the afterlife.

It had already been two hours since his unit touched down near Raccoon City Park and almost right away they were swarmed by ravenous cannibals that had congregated on the small street that contained entrances to the park, nearby St. Michael's Clock Tower, and Raccoon General Hospital. They fired everything they had into the cannibals, but the infected townspeople bypassed the machine gun fire like it was only a swarm of mosquitoes flying at them.

He was under the command of Russian mercenary Lt. Mikhail Victor and their unit was severely outnumbered. Within seconds most of his squadmates had fallen and it was down to him, Lt. Victor, Witkowski, and Busch. Busch was killed short thereafter when the sight of his comrades dying before him had caused him to go insane and he threw himself to the zombies.

After a trek through the nearby clock tower's courtyard, one of those undead freaks had managed to get the jump on the trio and bit into Witkowski's arm, tearing an entire chunk of his flesh away from him. With a now injured man at their side, Jonas and Mikhail were anxious to get as far away from the scene as possible and try to find shelter wherever they could.

The three men eventually found a 24/7 convenience store a few blocks away and shacked up to collect their wits and find some more supplies since they had lost most of their stuff back at the landing zone when they were forced to make a hasty retreat. The problem though had been Witkowski himself. After being bitten by that insane townsperson back in the clock tower courtyard, he had taken a turn for the worse. His skin had become a sickly pale, he began to emit the smell of rotten fruit and urine, he scratched himself constantly and complained of feeling like he was on fire, he threw up constantly, and he began to crave almost everything around him.

From out of nowhere he would then tackle Mikhail to the floor and try to bite into him.

This savage, animalistic behavior suddenly coming from one of his closest friends totally baffled him and he had to do something fast or else the man would tear into his commanding officer's throat and shouting random threats at the man obviously was not working.

Jonas would be forced to do the unspeakable.

Closing his eyes and squeezing the trigger, the young soldier fired nonstop into his infected friend until his clip ran dry. He had been forced to kill his friend because of all this madness.

Neither man had time to grieve for their fallen comrade as zombies began closing in on the small store and make a meal of both men if they didn't escape. The duo quickly escaped through a back door and navigated their way through several surrounding alleys until they encountered yet another creature that looked like it was straight out of a child's nightmare, what could only be described as almost a cross between a bug and a human being. The creature was soon joined by three more of its kind and they let out hideous shrieks before charging with flailing blades sprouting out of their arms. Plenty of gunfire was exchanged and in the end, both men were separated.

Here Jonas sat now, cold and alone. His M4A1 was out of ammo and he had used up all of his hand grenades. The only weapon he carried on him now was his standard-issue Sigpro SP2009 sidearm which only had one bullet left, and he knew what its intended use was for.

Holding the diary in front of him he read what was to be his final entry:

September 28th.

Dawn's here, but we're still slogging through this nightmare. There are no provisions of any kind here. The undead walk the streets feeding upon the flesh of the living.

Given the choice again, I would rather have been executed. Death row was a heavenly asylum compared to this place. I've chosen to pull the trigger myself, in the hope that my dead body won't come back to life.

With his final thoughts, Jonas raised the gun and placed it against his temple. A single tear ran down his cheek before he pulled the trigger.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Dammit get away!" Carlos cried as he drove the butt of his rifle into the side of the zombie's head, snapping its neck upon impact. The creature had attacked the young merc while he was in the middle of reloading his assault rifle and several more still came his way.

The young mercenary had been cut off from his platoon following the appearance of a grotesque bug-like creature that had come from the shadows and tore apart Mason and savagely slashed O' Malley across his back and left him bleeding heavily.

Full-blown chaos followed as the panicked soldiers fired everything they had at the creature, only to miss and nearly kill each other. Two more creatures appeared at random and made their attack, killing McVicker and Cristo and nearly chopping Murphy's head off in the process. Machine guns barked all around him and Tyrell had tossed a hand grenade in one of the creature's direction hoping to scare it off, but their efforts were all in vain as the creatures kept coming at them and tore apart Chandler's chest like an excited child ripping apart a wrapped present on Christmas Day. One of the beasts appeared right before the young merc and he fired everything he had into the creature, severely wounding it, but not killing it.

Here he was now running through a zombie infested back alley having been separated from his colleagues by the attack. His assault rifle still contained a considerable amount of ammo as did his sidearm. He silently thanked the Lord for having the intelligence to bring all of this ammo with him, yet he knew he would need it even more if he were to encounter another one of those bug-like critters and he dodged as many of the zombies as he could, only firing when they prevented his further advancement through the alley.

As he spotted a metal door in front of him, he was assaulted by another zombie, this one a teenaged girl with short blonde hair and wearing black shorts and a pink t-shirt. She uttered a hideous moan as she leapt out at him.

"I'm sorry, miss..." the merc thought somberly to himself as he fired a burst into her face, littering the stairs behind her with rotted brain matter and skull fragments.

"Damned Umbrella being unable to admit their mistakes and being stupid enough to let something like this happen!" he swore bitterly as he through himself through the door and locked it behind him.

Breathing heavily, Carlos turned around to find himself in an area under heavy construction filled with wooden crates and abandoned construction equipment. The ominous sound of wind blowing in the night made the young man's hair stand on end and he kept his assault rifle level at all times and his itchy trigger finger had him ready to fire at anything that crossed his path.

A load of bricks fell around a corner and the soldier jumped, but quickly held in his frightened yelp he almost let out. He couldn't let know whatever it was that had made that racket know that he was nearby and he quickly hid in a shadowy area beneath a steel catwalk.

He was terrified right now, but at the same time wanted to find out what it was that was nearby and kept his hands steady as best he could.

"Come to me," he whispered as he waited impatiently.

A figure rounded the corner, a man with short, wavy sandy brownish-blonde hair wearing the same kind of uniform Carlos wore. The man was exhausted and fell to his knees, but quickly pushed himself back up as he struggled to hold onto his assault rifle.

"Marshall!" Carlos cried out stepping into the open area. He approached the guy and helped him back to his feet.

"Where is the rest of your unit?" he asked the tired soldier and helped him over to a crate to use as a seat.

"They're all dead. Every last one of them...Dead...Killed by these mutated bugs...And psycho canines that jumped us behind a car park..." he gasped trying to slow down. Carlos responded by offering the man his canteen.

"I got cut off from my unit too. Those bugs you speak of, did it," he replied, "We have to find them. They could still be out there somewhere," Carlos spoke hoping to raise his comrade's spirits.

Another alien shriek filled the air and both men looked up to find a Drain Deimos had tracked them down and was ready to go in for another kill.

"Carlos, get out of here!" Marshall demanded as he rose with assault rifle raised.

"No, I'll help you kill this freak!"

"I mean it, get out of here! I might be done for, but you still stand a chance. Now go!" Marshall shouted back.

"What the hell, man?"

"Just go and find our teammates!" the sandy haired man shouted firing at the creature.

"But..."

"Do it or I'll kill you myself!" Marshall screamed.

Carlos was speechless at this point, but still did as he was told and proceeded to run down hall and out of the construction site as Marshall's gunfire erupted in the background.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Marshall's dying screams could be heard from within the building as Carlos stood outside the entrance of a nearby parking garage. 

The man cursed himself for listening to his friend for once, but at the same time there was an assuring voice within his head telling him that he had to do it and that he was still alive to make it out of this mess. It seemed almost as if the two separate voices were fighting an epic battle for control of his mind as he stood there alone and in the darkness.

With a loud grunt, Carlos placed both hands to the side of his head and violently shook it back and forth as he tried to regain sense of what was going on around him and after several tense seconds he seemed to finally take charge of himself and suddenly began to notice his surroundings.

The man found himself on another war-torn street with several large barricades to his right that blocked off the entrance to the rest of the street that had been littered several stories high with wrecked cars and overturned streetlights barring further access. To his left he found a city bus that had overturned and crushed several smaller cars beneath it. Further down the street he spotted a taxi cab wrapped around a pole with a dead body resting on the hood that appeared to have been launched through the windshield. He could see several crows feasting on the body and it made his stomach nearly do a triple somersault, he had to get out of there now.

Shutting his eyes, the young merc broke into a sprint and ran down the street using his extra senses to tell him if anything stood in his way or not. He opened them again as he heard the flapping and cawing of the crows and saw that the little winged critters had him surrounded from above and were about to swoop down on him with claws outstretched.

He turned around to see an iron gate in front of him and boosted his speed and nearly jumped right into the gate as he wrapped his hands around the bars and quickly pulled the gate shut behind him. The cracking noises of crows colliding with the metal bars was heard from behind and the young merc winced as he listened to their pained squawks.

"Fuckin' A..." Carlos gasped as he backed further into the alley he had entered, only to stop as he stepped on something metallic and looked down to realize it was a gun, the same kind of sidearm used by his teammates.

"What?" he asked aloud before he looked ahead and saw a disturbing sight that made him cry out.

"John!"

John Wicklow lay dead before Carlos. His skin had taken the same sickly pale shade as the zombies from the streets and he discovered a large bite mark on the man's wrist. Several bullets were lodged in the man's chest, but it was a bullet in the center of his forehead that had apparently done him in. It looked almost as if the man had been bitten by a zombie and then had to be shot to death, probably by one of his own teammates judging by the depth of the bulletholes and the casings left behind.

The man's assault rifle lay empty before him, as did his pistol. The soldier's body had been stripped of all ammunition and his hand grenades had been confiscated, as well as most of his other supplies. There was one critical piece of equipment that did remain near his body.

His portable radio unit.

Carlos quickly grabbed the receiver and put in the earpiece and began searching all frequencies.

"Hello homebase," he shouted, "Is anybody out there? We have come under heavy attack and are platoon has been cut off! No known survivors from the other units, do you read me? This is Carlos!" he shouted into the receiver and anxiously waited for a reply, getting only static from the other end.

Moaning could be heard coming from the other side of the gate and the young merc looked to see that about four or five zombies had gathered around the gate and had their bony hands wrapped around the bars, hoping to force it open and reach their intended meal.

"Shit!" the merc cursed loudly and ran towards the end of the alley and exited.

CLICK!

Carlos charged into the next street area only to be met with the clicking of an assault rifle and was frozen stiff.

"Oliveira! You're alive!" a familiar voice shouted.

Carlos turned around to see Daryl Schneider, the field scout of Delta Team, standing before him and gradually lowering his assault rifle.

"Guys, I've found Carlos! He's alive!"

Six additional men came running around the corner, four of them he would immediately recognize as Nicholai, Murphy, Tyrell, and Lt. Mikhail Victor. The other two men were lesser soldiers he had met briefly before the mission named Giles and Daggett, one a tactical sniper and the other a heavy machine gunner.

"Oliveira, where the hell have you been?" Nicholai scolded, "Half our men have been killed by these abominations already and who knows how many else are missing. If we're going to make it out of this mess and accomplish our mission in one piece, you're going to have to learn how to stick with your group or else you will be eaten alive by these lunatics. Do I make myself clear?"

The younger mercenary was instantly bewildered by the older man's stern warning. Nicholai had plenty of ways of getting into his men's heads when he chewed them out for misconduct and it affected them so much they knew they had to shape up or else they probably wouldn't be as lucky next time.

The squad leader then turned his attention to the rest of the men present, "Alright, consult your tactical maps. The intended rendezvous point is at the center of town and we will need to secure some form of transportation for getting over there. I want all of you to stick close to me as we approach the checkpoint at the city library. We will then split up from there to search for any remaining survivors and regroup at the clock tower. You are to be no later than 0600 hours tomorrow morning or else you will be left behind," the man said coldly and then motioned for the others to follow him.

"That bastard would actually leave us here? What gives?" Schneider whispered loudly to Carlos and Murphy.

"Heh, I wouldn't put that asshole above it," Murphy replied.

"Me neither," Carlos added as the eight of them jogged down the street and towards their next checkpoint, all the way he could hear more cries, those of U.B.C.S., R.P.D., and townsperson alike, the cries of the forsaken.

Author's Note: I apologize if this chapter may seem rushed. This isn't even a real chapter, but rather a special interlude to explain what happens on the side. I may include more of these in the future, but I promise Jake WILL be back for the next chapter. Read and review, but NO FLAMES please! 


	12. Chapter 10: An Old Nemesis and New Allie...

Darkness Arises by E-Z B 

Author's Note: Hey to my loyal readers, I bring you yet another installment of Darkness Arises! I wanted to start out with some more shoutouts to some of my top reviewers:

Terry - Thanks for all your support man. If it wasn't for the continued support of you and all the other readers, then this fic would not have made it this far. I can't wait to read your latest chapter of "Three Days in a Nightmare," it was good to see that sicko Foller finally get his. Speaking of your fic, this goes out as a note to all readers: CHECK OUT "THREE DAYS IN A NIGHTMARE!" IT IS A TOTALLY BADASS RESIDENT EVIL FIC AND IS PROBABLY ONE OF THE BEST I HAVE READ IN QUITE A WHILE! TRUST ME, IT IS DEFINITELY WORTH YOUR TIME!

Noctorro - Another loyal reviewer, I just read your latest chapter of "Act 5: Biohazard: World of the Undead - File 2" and it was totally kick ass man! I also want to mention to all of the viewers that Noctorro here has been kind enough to do a concept sketch of what Jake would probably look like if he was an actual in-game character. You read right, Jake Cavanaugh finally has a face now! If you wish to view the drawing you may e-mail and ask to see it. My e-mail is in my profile.

Paradox022 - Thanks for your comments. I wanted to go with something different when I made Jake a dark character with his own "Code of Honor." If you play Street Fighter games at all I am sure that you are well aware of Akuma, the murderous Master of the Fist. He is a demon who is considered a piece of shit by society because he murdered his brother and master, but is not evil by his own ethical code because he follows the absolute way of the warrior, where the line between all your close connections is blurred. I guess I'm in a way trying to make Jake a more human version of him in the sense that he doesn't just run around slaughtering random innocents and only goes after those he is assigned to. I guess you could say I'm trying to make him where he is really neither good nor evil, just in between.

KiaGirl07 - Yet another Jake Cavanaugh groupie! LOL! I'm just kidding around. It might be a while before he finally gets a change of clothes, but he's somebody who's used to running around for long periods of time without sleep. As for Dario, if you hate him so much and are familiar with the events of Resident Evil 3: Nemesis, you'll see that he eventually gets his in the end.

Leon's Better Self - Ask and ye' shall receive! See above what I said about Dario. As for babysitting the turd, what better opportunity for Jake to kick his ass then? LOL! As for wanting to see more of Jake's past in the future, this story will include quite a few flashbacks of major battles he has seen in the past and will include some original characters who are old allies of his and yes indeed, some old not-so-friendly faces will eventually come back to haunt our favorite antihero. You a fellow metalhead as well?

TylerD, JBabeJanice, JNM, Lindsy1, kingofcenturyme, HajimeSaketo85, smilesK, and to anybody other loyal fans again I thank you for the continuous support and will need it because this might be quite a long fic and JMec79 gimme some of those damn Keebler Elf cookies! Now on with the story!

Chapter 10: An Old Nemesis and New Allies

Things had quieted down for the moment, but just minutes ago Jake could hear hollow moans of the undead and the screams of still-living humans mixing with the all too familiar sounds of automatic fire and explosions rocking the earth around him. Judging by the sound of their weapons, these men were too heavily armed to be surviving police officers. Chances are, they were probably soldiers like that Reso man he had encountered back in the alley. No time to think about that right now, he had a head to claim.

Like the soldier had told him, all of the zombies on the street the alley led to had been cleared out and the career criminal had moved through a couple more streets littered with corpses, all obviously done in by the soldier's assault rifle. Other than that, there had been no other threats so far.

As he moved on, Jake had come across the corpses of several other men who had been dressed like Reso and carried the same weaponry as him. He had managed to collect four additional clips for his assault rifle, three for his handguns, and had even picked up a line of hand grenades and several pounds of C-4 explosives and a detonator off the corpse of a soldier whom he assumed to be a demolitions specialist. Perhaps there still had been some good fortune left for him in this decaying city.

The career criminal was currently on McLauren Ave., which at the moment was mercifully devoid of any threats. He did however happen across the remnants of yet another battle.

"Another battle?" Jake quietly asked as he approached a corpse that laid near and knelt down to examine it. The body that lay before him was of a burly man in in a brown leather jacket, torn blue jeans, and black boots. A nylon hood covered his head, but beneath it he could still man out the look of agony on the man's face. The man's chest had been torn open and his heart was nowhere to be found.

"A lowly street thug," he remarked and then looked around to find the bodies of several other men dressed similar to the first thug all torn up and riddled with bulletholes. Around the dead gang members lay the corpses of men and women of all ages and sizes that had mutated and were shot to death. Jake searched the dead gang members only to find that none of them held any ammunition and only carried melee weapons such as baseball bats, blackjacks, crowbars, chains, and other weapons that would probably be considered worthless next to a firearm in a situation like this.

As the career criminal searched the deceased gang members for weapons, one of them, a man in a black vest, torn red jeans, and a red executioner's hood slowly rose back to his feet and charged for the first thing he saw, which happened to be Jake himself.

Sensing his would-be attacker rising from behind, Jake quickly unsheathed his sword and spun around, decapitating the zombie with a single slash, "Sorry bub, you'll have to wait some other time," he smirked.

Jake was preparing to sheath his katana again when he was cut off by the sound of squealing tires and rowdy hooting from around the corner. The screams of innocent bystanders rang through the air, followed by the thunderous pop of handgun fire mixed with the heavy booms of shotgun blasts and the crash of glass and the crackling of licking flames. The career criminal would have thought it to be the sounds of survivors fighting for their very lives against the undead or another nightmarish abomination until a rocky voice called out, "Quick, get that bitch! Take her money"

The young criminal shook his head, "A couple of yahoos attempting a mugging at a time like this..." the situation was almost humorous to him when he thought of the perpetrator's stupidity, but then again there probably had been several other muggings and numerous other offenses committed during the nighttime hours thanks to the local police force being distracted by the attacks from zombies and other creatures. The city had fallen into complete anarchy.

"Hmmm, maybe I'll be able to get some practice for when I have to take out that Birkin chump," Jake said to himself as he saw several flashes coming from an alley where the attack had been taking place. If this was the work of lowly street thugs, then he figured he could get some target practice and hand-to-hand sparring in before confronting his target, assuming the man still had protection.

Blending in with the surrounding shadows, Jake crept towards the alley and kept himself as quiet as he possibly could. He was thankful to be wearing dark clothes that would help him blend into the shadows with greater ease. He buttoned up his trenchcoat so the bright red dragon emblazoned on his t-shirt would not be spotted in the darkness. His back was held tightly against the wall behind him and he looked over his shoulder with every step making sure he would not be ambushed. Jake inched further and further towards the courtyard the thugs had gathered in until he overheard a conversation.

"...Man, I hope selling this crap on the underground market will get me enough money to buy a new house once I make it out of here. Some of those coked up, rotting freaks tore my house apart. They didn't steal anything, but they sure wrecked a lot of my stuff," a gruff sounding man spoke.

"Don't worry man, I talked to Cliffy and he's said we'll be paid handsomely for every piece of merchandise we manage to get in fair condition. TV's, stereos, boomboxes, game systems, fine art...The list goes on and on and he's got great prices for everything we turn in. All we have to do is get this building cleared out, get the shit to the lockup over on Ridgeway, and then we're good to go," another man replied.

"Damn, these guys need to hurry up. I want to get out of this place as soon as possible before we encounter anymore of those rotting freaks. I tell you, those things have no feelings, no fear, nothing! I watched them tear apart a young couple when I was on my way over to your place and then one almost took a chunk out of me when I was having a smoke outside Bar Jack. One of those things bit Kevin earlier and then he started acting all strange and tried to bite Ronnie. Moose had to shoot him a bunch of times before he finally went down and even then he wasn't dead!" the first man nearly shouted.

"Relax Vic, we'll make it out. I know this entire city is under quarantine, but don't sweat it. I have a brother-in-law with Internal Affairs over at the R.P.D. He's got connections all over this city, if anybody can get us out it's him"

"I sure hope you know what you're doing. Right now all I can think about is all the drugs I'm going to snort and all the whores I'm gonna fuck as soon as I get out of here," the man now called Vic replied as he shared a hearty chuckle with his counterpart.

"I second that man, I passed the Sexy Tigress earlier tonight and some maniacs were there tearing the place apart. I sure hope they didn't harm Electra. Boy oh boy, that chick is built right there man! I definitely have to bring her along when I get out of this shithole," the second man shot back.

"Yeah, no getting drunk or laid tonight, at least not until we get this shit taken care of," Vic spoke.

"Aw man, I don't know about you, but right now I've really gotta take a piss. I'll be back in a few minutes"

"Catch you in a few Carl, I'll save some of those vintage records I got from some old fart's house back on East Bay just for you!" Vic shouted back.

"He's coming," Jake whispered and was about to unsheath his blade again, until he looked down and saw a plastic bag lying at his feet. An idea popped into his head.

Carl's footsteps crunched the gravel beneath his feet as he rushed for a dark corner to relieve himself in. Unbeknownst to him, Jake was waiting nearby. The career criminal watched as the thug relieved himself on a nearby dumpster and quietly emerged from the shadows with his hand raised high above his head, plastic bag in hand.

"Ah geez," Carl shuddered as he had finished his business, "Man it's cold tonight, I'm freezing my balls off out here"

Carl smiled to himself, thinking of the payoff he would receive from exporting the stolen goods to Cliffy's lockup over in Ridgeway. He was a small-time nobody who worked a dull job at the city's steel mill and thanks to Umbrella's domination of the local industry, he barely ever had enough money to keep a roof over his head, that is until he started doing side jobs for the small-time smuggler. Cliffy always paid generously for a job well done and with the state of emergency in this city, his pay would probably skyrocket. Oh how his life would change after tonight.

That was the last thought Carl would ever think before plastic obscured his vision and cut off his breathing.

"Never drop your guard, scumbag," Jake scolded as he pulled harder on the bag and tried to stay behind the thug as the degenerate clawed away at the bag and let out a cry for help. His cry was muffled by the plastic and he began slowing down. With the man weakened, Jake spun him around and drove his fist into the man's face. He punched him several more times before he twisted the handles and snapped the man's neck.

This had been the first human victim Jake had claimed all night. He knew that if he wanted to make it through this mess alive he would have to rely on other survivors for now, but this man probably would have tried to kill him without second thought and there were more of them close by.

Sure, Jake may have been a career criminal and all, but these street thugs were beneath even him. They were true low-life degenerate scum in every sense of the word. These men reminded him a lot of the bullies who terrorized him back in high school. They were the kind of punks driven solely by greed who would probably beat up their own mother for fifty-thousand dollars and have no qualms about killing any random innocent bystander unfortunate enough to cross their path..

In his own mind, Jake was quite good compared to these thugs in the sense that he never harmed innocent bystanders on purpose and never prowled the streets looking to cause trouble. Trouble always found him and the nameless innocents who have died by his hand in the past were simply caught in the wrong place at the wrong time and thus fell in the crossfire. There was no time to dive any further into this as he heard more voices coming in his direction. He scooped up the thug's corpse and laid it in the open dumpster. He then moved quietly back into the shadowy corner he had emerged from earlier and waited for the thugs to approach.

"...Did you see last nights game between the Las Venturas Bandits and the Carcer City Otters?" a voice spoke.

"Nah, I couldn't. My old lady was bitching me out last night over the usual...Vince, take out the trash, Vince, walk the dog, Vince, take the kids to school, Vince, you're being inadequate in bed again!" the second thug now called Vince complained as him and his buddy walked down the alley.

"Damn, makes me glad I ran off on my stupid bitch of an ex. She was worse than your old lady, believe me," the first one replied.

"Ugh, don't remind me Bob. Maybe with some of the reward money, maybe I'll be able to go out and buy her that nice new Maibatsu Monstrosity she's always wanted. Maybe then she'll leave me alone for once"

"Maybe you should come over to my place afterwards and take a bong hit with me, something to take the edge off," the thug named Bob laughed as both men now entered Jake's field of vision. The first thug wore a red and white letterman's jacket and had a nylon hood pulled over his head like the thug out on the street. He carried a wooden baseball bat covered in blood and seemed to be more intent on joking around with his friend than staying alive. The second man wore a black hood covered with strange red and white markings, black biker boots, blue jeans, black gloves, and a sleeveless black vest that showed off his muscular, heavily tattooed arms. He held a blackjack in one hand and a strand of razor wire in the other.

"Dude, I don't think we should be wandering this far away from the guys," Vince spoke in a worried manner, "We don't wanna end up like Zeke. Did you see what those things did to him back there"

"Do you have to bring that up again, man?" Bob shot back, "I was there Vince, I saw how three of those bastards jumped him and started tearing him limb from limb like he was nothing. I tell you those things ain't normal man, something's up in this city"

"I heard that, I shot up a bunch of those freaks back there, killed five of them. You have to aim for their butt ugly heads in order to kill them off for good, genius," Vince said looking down to his empty revolver. He had wasted all of his ammo back on McLauren trying to kill those freaks. He had successfully killed five of them with headshots, but that wasn't enough as more and more kept crawling out of the woodwork. The images of those peoples' rotting faces still lingered in his memory, as well as how some of them moved with missing limbs and internal organs hanging out. He seriously doubted he should be here right now, but Bob being the troublemaker he is dragged him along into this mess.

BAM!

"What the hell was that?" Bob shouted into the darkness. It sounded as if somebody had pounded their fist against one of the dumpsters.

"Could it be another one of those freaks?" Vince replied as he squinted his eyes into the darkness, looking for any possible intruders.

"Come on, we have to tell the guys-" Bob was cut off by a wet slashing noise that came from behind. "V-Vince is that you?" he asked turning around to look for his friend. The man was nowhere to be found.

"Vince, I'm not in the mood for playing games right now. You seriously have to come out now," Bob called out as he searched for his friend. The frightened thug turned around to suddenly see an object roll before him.

"For heaven's-" the man was cut off as he was struck in the back of his head by a blunt object. He was struck again before he found himself being placed in a headlock with additional leverage from a nightstick.

CRACK!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake slowly let the thug's body sag to the ground. He had smacked the man in the back of his head twice with his nightstick and then broke his neck. Quick and brutal he thought to himself as he dragged the man's body into the dark corner where he hid. Taking great care to conceal the body, he turned his attention to the severed head laying in the thin shaft of light from where the thug named Bob had spotted it. While hiding in the shadows the career criminal had quickly drawn his sword and slashed off Vince's head.

"Too easy," Jake remarked as he picked up Vince's severed head and stared into its empty eyes. He decided that he would hang on to the man's head for now as it could prove to be of strategic importance for what he had planned next.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Melvin waited impatiently for his buddies to give him the signal that they were ready to go. He had been waiting here for hours now and was desperate to get the hell out of Dodge after seeing what those rotting townspeople had done to several of his buddies out on McLauren. Thinking of that incident made him think of Murdoch.

"Poor idiot went and got himself killed," the young man sighed pacing back and forth. He recalled how Murdoch had foolishly tried to fight off what he assumed to be a bunch of defenseless townspeople. The man had been armed with a sawn-off shotgun and had fired into a man's chest, only to have the mystery man rise back up and take a bite out of his shoulder. The gang members shouted at him to stop wasting his time, but he wanted payback and kept firing into the crowd until a bunch of people were on top of him tearing him to pieces.

With the police occupied in battling the mayhem that had erupted all over town, the group of men he was with had gathered down at the Fighting Irish Pub and had planned to loot several upscale apartment buildings of their valuables and try to cash in on what they could gather. They figured with the cops too busy busting a couple rioters they would be able to sneak in and grab everything they could in armfuls and then get off Scot free.

They would be proven wrong as those psychotic townspeople seemingly appeared out of thin air and began their unholy assault.

Several more of his friends had lost their lives tonight when these rotting townspeople started appearing at random all over the city and they would not go down even when taking shots to vital organs, they could only be dispatched with headshots.  
The thought made the thug constantly hold his hand to his waist holster, where he kept a fully loaded Beretta 9mm. handgun and had two clips in reserve. He knew he wasn't much of a marksman, but he knew what he had to do to stop those freaks and had his will to live.

Right now all he could think about was being relegated to guard duty while his buddies tore apart the surrounding apartment buildings.

"Damn those asshats. They get all the fun while I'm out here hanging like a gimp waiting for more of those freaks..." he complained. He moved further until he heard a sickening splat. He turned around to find something totally unexpected.

"What the..." he gasped as the severed head of his friend Vince laid before him staring lifelessly at him.

"Mother of..." Before the thug could finish his sentence, a powerful hand wrapped around his mouth and he heard the click of a gun.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Why hello there," Jake said as he held the man from behind with a gun to his right temple, "I don't mean to intrude upon your little social gathering, but you gentlemen do stand in my way and I just cannot sit by and allow that to happen now, can I," the career criminal spoke in an almost perky tone almost as if he was talking to a close friend, a rare showing of humor from the often serious career criminal. He quickly reverted to his serious, take no prisoners persona, "Alright listen up, shithead! You and I are going to go for a little walk. You try to escape, you die. You try to fight me, you die. You try to call out for help, you die. Any questions"

The thug nervously shook his head.

"Good, now let's move!" Jake said as he dragged the man along in a painful headlock position.

Jake eventually made his way to a courtyard that sat between four tenement buildings, where a black Boxville delivery truck had been parked and was being loaded with electronic devices and other valuable items being looted from the surrounding buildings. Two pick-up trucks, one a red Chevrolet Bobcat and the other a black Ford Yosemite, were parked on both sides of the larger Boxville also stacked with everything from toolboxes to Panasonic television sets and boomboxes. The career criminal immediately spotted six thugs in the yard loading things into the trucks, all of whom were dressed in casual clothing with either hoods or skimasks covering their heads. They all carried a variety of handguns, including one with a sawn-off shotgun and two more entering the scene carrying chromed pump-action shotguns.

The career criminal pushed his hostage into the open area and one of his comrades spotted him.

"Melvin, what are you doing here? Get back to your post!" the man ordered, only to be shot dead a second later by Jake, who fired his gun over his hostage's shoulder.

Jake smiled as he continued to hold Melvin in a painful headlock with his gun jammed into the side of the man's head, "You boys all got something planned?" he taunted as he scared at the street thugs, who were torn between wanting to shoot him and not wanting to injure their friend.

"Die you bastard!" one of the thugs shouted and started firing at the two men.

A chorus of light explosions filled the air as the thugs fired their weapons simultaneously. Within seconds Jake's human shield was riddled with bullets and barely clinging onto his own life. After being struck by a few bullets himself, the career criminal pulled his human shield back into the alley he first came from.

"H...H...Help...Me..." Melvin choked as he struggled to hold on to life after being shot up by his own comrades while being used as a human shield.

Jake looked down at his human shield, who had been shot up pretty bad and was now in the midst of breathing his last breath, "So much for honor among thieves. Rest assured, your services are no longer needed. Goodbye," he said and then put his gun to the back of the man's head and pulled the trigger.

"Come on out you little scaredy cat!" one of the thugs taunted firing warning shots at the wall Jake hid behind.

"Time to finish this," Jake said and pulled out his additional Beretta preparing for another gunfight.

With amazing speed, Jake dove into the open courtyard and rolled behind a Dodge Sadler and Mazda Kuruma. The thugs discharged their weapons relentlessly upon him, riddling the vehicles he hid behind with bullet holes.

"Don't let him get away, ventilate him!" he heard another thug shout.

"The fuck you will!" Jake shouted back as the thugs moved closer to him. He rolled out into the open and fired both guns at his attackers. He managed to catch one of the men in the stomach and sent him staggering away before he finally collapsed to the ground and tried in vain to crawl away from the carnage.

"You fucking asshole!" one of the thugs bellowed as he raised a heavy magnum revolver and fired a round in the career criminal's direction. The round missed him by more than a mile. Jake could tell right now that he was going against a group of nobodies who probably had little or no experience being involved in an actual gunfight judging by their sloppy shots. Despite his relative youth compared to most of the thugs before him, the young career criminal was already a hardened veteran of countless gunfights and had been involved in confrontations where he used almost any kind of firearm he could get his hands on and was usually by himself, or with a small group of accomplices in which he usually emerged the sole survivor. He possessed the rapid thinking that required him to strategize and eliminate all who attacked him rather than just killing a few people and then running away.

By now, all of the thugs present had been firing upon him, sending a hail of bullets that forced him to crawl on his stomach.

With their target temporarily incapacitated, the thieves made a dash for the area in which he hid behind when the popping of firecrackers filled the night air. Jake had now equipped his assault rifle and managed to drop six men in one rapid fire succession, killing five of them immediately and leaving the last one writhing on the ground in pain as his legs had nearly been blown out from underneath him and he rolled around on the ground, his pistol falling from his grasp and just mere inches away from him. One of the thugs saw his partner drop and tried to help him. The man quickly reloaded his gun and began firing madly upon Jake, but the career criminal was back to his feet and firing. Several red holes erupted across the man's upper torso and he fell in a heap near his suffering comrade.

"Shit! Fall back!" another thug cried out as he saw seven of his number reduced to nothing. Several thieves scrambled to find cover as they would attempt to dart back to the safety of their getaway vehicles.

Jake fired again, this time tearing one thug's back apart and dropping him to the ground faster than a sack of potatoes. Several thugs emerged from the tenement buildings and fired upon the career criminal, but proved to be poor shots, giving the career criminal enough time to reach another safe spot behind a pair of dumpsters.

"Come on! Kill this dumbassed Dracula wannabe you clowns!" a thug with a thick southern accent called out to some friends who attempted to retreat. The man would be silenced a second later as a round from Jake's S&W magnum struck him through his right eye and obliterated that entire side of his face, dropping him lifelessly over the railing of the fire escape he stood on.

"Oh crap, this guy has an entire freaking arsenal on him!" a thug wearing a black skimask and black sweatshirt muttered as his Colt .45 had just run out of ammo and he carried nothing else on him except for his crowbar. The man tried to bolt out of the alley, but was quickly dropped by a .357 round that caught him in the back of his neck and sent him falling to the ground as he attempted to reach up and stop the blood flow cascading from the exit wound.

"Time for Plan B!" one of the lead thugs shouted to his friend as he reached for a liquor bottle filled with gasoline and quickly stuffed a wet rag in and pulled a Zippo lighter from his pocket. He set the oily piece of cloth aflame and with a mighty heave chucked it over the crate he hid behind.

Jake glanced over at a thug he saw lighting a cloth hanging from a liquor bottle and knew what the man had planned. He emerged from his hiding place and fired his magnum wildly at the surrounding thugs, missing them but forcing most of them to duck.

The Molotov cocktail crashed against the ground and set the area he had been crouching in on fire, igniting some nearby trashbags and cardboard boxes that slowly spread towards the vehicles he had been hiding behind moments before.

"Not tonight you rejects!" Jake shouted above the roar of the flames and fired his four remaining rounds through a ground floor apartment window a thug had been firing from and saw the man's silhouette jerk as blood splattered all over the surrounding outer walls.

Jake ducked behind a ruined car and trashed refrigerator as he reloaded his magnum and saw another flash as a thief standing in the back of the Yosemite had pulled out his own Molotov cocktail and was lighting the fuse. The career criminal raised his revolver and fired two rounds into the man's chest, but it was too late. By the time he fired, the man had already flung the deadly cocktail into the air and could tell that the Molotov's trajectory would bring it downwards towards the two parked vehicles.

Glass shattered, followed by the sweltering eruption of reddish-orange flames that blanketed the two vehicles. They were quickly devoured and combined together for one large explosion that sent burning chunks of rubber and scrap metal raining down upon the tall criminal. The man knelt with his head between his knees and his hands pressed to the sides of his head. He instinctively kept himself as close to the ground and as quiet as possible so his adversaries would think he was dead. Looking in front of him he spotted a blue mountain bike resting against one of the building's stoops.

"Where'd he go?" a gruff voice called out.

"Did we get him?" another thug asked excitedly.

"We had to have, there's no way he could have survived that explosion," a third pointed out.

"Come on, he's dead already, let's just get out of here!" a fourth thug anxiously cut in grabbing a Playstation gaming console he had taken from a kid's bedroom.

The ringing of a bicycle's bell suddenly came from behind the four men.

"What?" the first man turned around to find a mountain bike come flying at him a strike him in the side.

"Ow!" he bellowed as the bike collided with him and nearly knocked him to the ground. As the bike made impact, a black metallic object fell from its bottle holder and clattered to the ground.

KA-BOOM!

The four men were torn apart by the hand grenade and their remnants were flung about the courtyard. A few of the thugs still remained and instantly panicked.

"Shit! He's not dead!" one of them cried firing his shotgun at the dark area the mountain bike had come from. His comrades joined in firing everything they had at the area the bike had come from hoping whoever pushed it at them was still there and being riddled with bullets as they spoke. They fired continuously until they had all exhausted most of their ammo.

"Hack, Crusher, check it out. Make sure that creep is dead!" a thug wearing a black trenchcoat and hood with a red cross painted on it ordered.

"Screw that man, he's gotta be dead now," Hack shouted over the roaring flames, "We got what we came for now I say we get out of here before more of those rotten freaks show up"

"Hack, quit being such a pussy and come on!" Crusher said punching his friend in the shoulder and withdrawing his Browning HP handgun.

"You should've listened to your friend," an ominous voice called out loudly enough for all of them to hear.

The surviving gang members turned to see the man they had been firing at come flying at them through the air like Superman with both arms extended, firing his dual Berettas indiscriminately in their direction. Hack and Crusher both feel right away and another thug named Bruce fell to the ground wailing in pain as his shoulder vanished in a spray of crimson.

"Why won't you just fucking die!" the leader called Cross shouted out to their assailant as he began firing his King Cobra into the man's direction and taking cover behind a stack of wooden crates. One of the crates he hid behind was nearly knocked over as the corpse of his friend Burt was thrown backwards after taking seven shots to the chest. He wanted to make this man pay for killing off most of his buddies and ruining his operation.

With a mad dash, Cross ran out into the open and fired round after round in the mystery man's direction. He then dove behind a cement wall and looked over to see that Mick and Rocco were still alive and clinging onto their weapons for dear life. They appeared to be genuinely frightened of this mysterious man. He wanted to curse them for their cowardice, yet at the same time he almost found himself fearing the man for he did not know how one individual could be capable of taking down so many men and he doubted he wanted to see what other tricks the man had hidden up his sleeve.

More gunshots were heard followed by the tortured cries of three more of his fellow gang members. A metallic clunk was heard on the ground and the two other thugs poked their heads out from behind their hiding place.

"Oh shit...Grenade!" Mick cried "He's gonna blow up the trucks!" Rocco added and stuck his pistol out firing a few rounds in the man's direction.

An earth-shattering explosion was heard followed by two more as the explosion of the Boxville swallowed up the two trucks that sat parked next to it. The ground rocked beneath Cross and his legs suddenly felt like they were made of water and he sunk to the ground, only to be knocked flat on his stomach as another one occurred.

The big man laid flat on the concrete and could feel his senses shut down and his body suddenly grew very heavy almost as if he was glued to the concrete. He heard nothing over than licking flames and saw bright colors flash across the backs of his eyes. He almost felt as if he was dying, until he heard two gunshots.

Opening his eyes, he found the mysterious man standing over the corpses of Rocco and Mick and looting their bodies of the remaining ammo they carried on them.

"You bastard!" Cross cried and lunged at the man throwing a series of powerful strikes in his direction, but as he had been out in the courtyard, the man was as quick as a wildcat and cut off the gang leader's assault with an elbow to his midsection and then brought his fist up into the man's face and followed up with a spinning kick that knocked the gang leader to the ground.

Remembering he still had his King Cobra on him, he reached into his holster, only to have the gun shot out of his hand a second later. He turned to find the man standing over him with his own magnum in hand.

"Big mistake," the man said looking down upon him with cold, blue-gray eyes that managed to instill some fear into the behemoth gang leader, "Looks like you should've gotten out of this city as soon as things went to shit. Now you will pay for your stupidity," the man spoke in an emotionless, almost robotic tone.

The last thing the gang member ever saw was a bright red dragon design printed on the man's black t-shirt before he pulled the trigger.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake looked down upon the man he had just shot dead. This man was much larger than the other gang members and wore a long black trenchcoat similar to the one he had and wore a black hood with a red cross decorating the center intersecting with the eye and mouth holes of his mask.

A King Cobra revolver laid near the man's corpse and he saw that it used .357 rounds like what he used in his own magnum and then pocketed them. He then bent down and searched the man further to find two more speed loaders of .357 rounds and kept them for himself. Most of the gang members had exhausted what little they had left of their ammunition trying to kill him and it had been a difficult search, but he did manage to gather two 9mm. clips and an abandoned Benelli M3S shotgun that still had four shells in it. He had found more on the former owner's corpse.

"These men were stupid to try this robbery in the first place and they ultimately paid with their lives," he muttered void of remorse. He could show no sympathy for a group of street thugs that were below even him, especially ones that had just tried to kill him in cold blood.

He could only ponder what would happen next as he remained kneeling over the gang leader's fallen corpse. He had enough ammunition to take on several more zombies and a whole lot of monsters that stood in his way, but he still had no mode of transportation to get around to finding this Umbrella facility faster and he would need to get there before Birkin could skip town, not to mention a shower, change of clothing, warm meal, and a good night's rest after all of this was over with.

Shifting his thoughts back to the present, he still looked over the gang leader of the group and decided to search the man's pockets. He found the man's wallet and much to his astonishment opened it to find a police badge. "So the bastard behind all of this was a cop! My how the mighty can fall in this city," he muttered loudly and flipped through the wallet to find pictures of what he believed to be the man's family, "This guy had a family too, what the hell was he thinking being involved in this kind of shit? Looks like I just did his kids a favor and saved them from having a dumbass for a father," he remarked and found two hundred dollars as well, which he decided to keep for himself.

"Now to-" Jake spoke quietly until his ears perked up at the sound of a trigger being pulled.

The crack of gunfire sounded from behind the career criminal and he barely had any time to react as the bullet zoomed at him. Acting with natural instinct, he dropped his head further to the right as it almost touched the dead gang leader's chest.

The deft movement saved him as the bullet whizzed harmlessly past, but just centimeters away from grazing his cheek he could feel the heat of the bullet's trail.

"Alright, whoever just shot at me is in for some serious pain!" the career criminal thought to himself as he spun around with gun raised and fired a shot at his assailant, who let out a frightened yelp as he fell backwards. The man's gun fell out of his hands and clattered to the concrete and he dove for it, only to have it kicked away as Jake approached.

"Oh no you don't, asshole!" Jake snarled as he stood over his attacker with pistol trained on the man's face. It was finally then that he managed to get a good look at the man.

The man who sat before him stood about five feet nine inches in height, with a lanky build covered by his clothing, clean-shaven face, and short, neatly combed brown hair. He wore a mustard-yellow colored combat vest, camouflage pants, black combat boots, and a white t-shirt underneath with a patch on his left shoulder that immediately caught his attention.

"S.T.A.R.S.?" Jake thought to himself as the name instantly rang a bell. They were the group of elite special agents who were sent in to investigate the area around the Spencer Estate back in July according to some of the files he had received. Only five of them had survived and came back with outlandish stories of the horrors they encountered within the grand estate. Here he was now encountering one of them in the flesh and judging by the sniveling form that sat before him, he was thinking if a loser like this guy was a S.T.A.R.S. member, then he must be the Pope.

"W-Wait! D-Don't shoot!" the man pleaded raising his hands up to protect his face.

"You just tried to kill me. Give me a reason why the hell I shouldn't splatter your brains all over the concrete?" Jake spat nearly screaming at the man.

"Please! It was an honest mistake! I thought you were somebody else!" he cried.

"Oh yeah, well who?" the career criminal growled pushing the man backward with his foot.

"A monster! A giant monster that has been following me! A monster that's after S.T.A.R.S. members!" he bellowed.

"A monster after S.T.A.R.S. members?" Jake repeated. He thought for a few seconds before the thought finally hit him. The large monster that had blown up the police paddywagon he traveled in earlier uttered the word "S.T.A.R.S"

"Yes! It's been following me all freaking night and I have no idea why! I saw your large build and the black trenchcoat and I thought you were it"

"Let me guess, this little "admirer" of yours," he said making a quotation gesture, "is eight feet tall, has one eye, snappy dresser, has fists the size of bowling balls, and carries a rocket launcher"

"Bingo! Wait a minute...How did you know?" the man asked.

"Let's just say your big ugly friend and I had an encounter back across town, tried to kill me and a bunch of other people," the career criminal explained offering his hand to the man.

"Son of a bitch..." the man muttered accepting Jake's help and dusting himself off, "So this thing will kill anything that gets in its way, fuck"

"Heh, I'd say," Jake sarcastically retorted.

"We have to warn the others back at the R.P.D., plus I have to find my teammate Jill Valentine"

"I was heading there myself. You got a name, cop?" Jake asked.

"Brad. Brad Vickers, I'm the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team's pilot, or at least I was until that fat toad Irons suspended all of us indefinitely," the man finished bitterly.

"Jake. Jake Smith, I was here in town for some R&R until all this bullshit started," Jake said, once again using his alias.

"No offense, but some vacation spot you decided upon. Hell, you'd probably be better to go to another mountain town like Latham or Springvale, hell maybe even that Carcer City shithole where that one director guy shot all those sick snuff films a few years back," Brad said almost cringing at the mention of that last place.

Jake chuckled slightly at the mention of the decrepit, gang-infested city having once been there himself, "Heh heh, whatever. Come on, let's get to the station. You lead the way cop"

Before he could finish his sentence he was cut off by another scream from Brad, who pointed behind them towards the sky.

"What?" Jake said before turning around to see the familiar monstrous figure standing before them. The eight foot tall monster Jake had encountered earlier on in the night and the same creature Brad described stood above them atop one of the surrounding apartment buildings with trademark rocket launcher in hand, "Speak of the devil"

"S.T.A.R.S.!" it roared in a ragged gasp.

"RUN!" Brad screamed and took off down the alley. Jake stared intently at the creature and wanted to fire upon it with his powerful magnum, but for now he figured it would be a wiser choice to follow the S.T.A.R.S. officer and he ran after the smaller man.

The creature hefted the heavy rocket launcher onto its shoulder and pulled the trigger, launching a heat-seeking missile at one of its intended targets and the unknown human who accompanied it. The rocket whistled through the air as it struck one of the nearby apartment complexes, obliterating the side wall of the building and sending chunks of concrete and steel raining down upon his targets, but yet he could still sense their presence. They had both survived!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Dammit!" Jake cried trying to shield himself from the debris raining down from above.

An explosion occurred above the career criminal and his new acquaintance as they ran through the alley. He had to rely on his lightning-quick reflexes to avoid the jagged burning remnants of a falling fire escape and still had to contend with large concrete chunks that fell around him like a meteor shower and threatened to knock him unconscious at any second.

"Ugh! How much further?" he gagged as he tried to prevent too much dust from entering his system and lowered his head to avoid small pebbles from falling into his eyes. He winced as he heard the loud clunking of rocks striking the trashcans, dumpsters, and fire escapes around him.

"We're almost out!" Brad replied running as fast as he could. He struggled to make out what was around him in the darkened alley and found it a welcome sight as he spotted the lights of another street, "There"

The career criminal raised his head as he could sense that he was out of the blast radius and picked up his speed until he was almost nipping at the officer's heels.

"Okay, we should be on Bur- Gah!" the pilot cried as he spotted more zombies wandering lazily about on the street the two men had just wandered onto, taking up most of the space in front of them.

"Shit!" the career criminal cursed to himself as stared at the undead cannibals and then looked around to see that there were no other available exits. The only way they could escape would be to go right through the zombies.

"We're trapped!" Brad yelped as he saw about twenty zombies standing before them, "We have to do something or else those things will get us"

As the S.T.A.R.S. officer spoke the distinctive roar of the eight foot tall monster blared above everything else, "Our luck just gets better and better," he sardonically spoke staring down at the ground and already beginning to think of the relatives he would never see again back home in Delucia.

Jake observed the zombies in front of them and watched as they brainlessly bumped into each other and far enough apart where he could probably break through them if he tried. He pulled out his dual Berettas and looked back to Brad, "Come on! I have a plan"

Brad's mouth hung open in shock, "What the hell are you doing? It's suicide"

"You have to be as cunning as a fox, officer! Didn't they teach you anything back at the police academy? We're going to make your big, ugly Frankenstein wannabe friend work to get to us! He'll have to punch his way through all these freaks before he gets to us, now move! Duck and dodge!" Jake ordered as he fired a round into the face of a female zombie that had gotten dangerously close to him.

"You're mad!" Brad cried in despair as he reluctantly followed the career criminal towards the mass of undead creatures. The smells of disease and decay hit the cowardly officer like a tidal wave as the peeling hands were nearly groping him and he could feel the putrid breaths upon his exposed skin. Pale hands, glossed over white eyes, tattered and bloodstained clothing, and crumbling faces were all he spotted as he advanced further and further.

Jake kept his arms outstretched and gunned down two zombies at once with guns drawn and took down another with a shot to its neck. He leapt into the air and performed a spinning heel kick that fractured another cadaver's neck and performed a Tae Kwon Do style roundhouse kick that cracked most of the bones in a fifth zombie's face, but failed to kill it. He looked over his shoulder to see Brad lagging behind and more intent on running that trying to shoot down any zombies around him. He watched as one zombie grabbed onto the man's shoulder until he shook it off and he ducked under a pair of rotting arms, only to wind up in the grip of another as he spun his entire body around and knocked the zombie backwards into one of its undead brethren. The man was then grabbed around his ankle by a fallen zombie and quickly shook his foot free before tackling another to the ground and nearly stumbling to the ground.

"Keep your head down!" Jake shouted as he fired a couple rounds into the zombie's around the man and knocked a few backward, giving the officer more time to catch up.

"Watch it!" Brad cried as the brains of a zombie splattered onto his uniform. The roar of the stalker was heard from behind and he soon realized the idea of Jake's plan as the giant had fallen a considerable distance behind them and was punching his way through any zombies the career criminal had failed to shoot down. The monster punched its way through with outraged fury, shattering bones and punching holes through his victim's bodies, who failed to feel the extent of their injuries as they pressed their way towards the two living men, creating a wall of decaying flesh that had thrown a wrench in the horrid beast's pursuit.

"Look, another barricade!" Jake shouted pointing to a wall of stacked cars that stood in front of them. The bigger man ran up to a Perennial station wagon that stood in the pile and drove his gloved fist through one of the wrecked vehicle's rear windows and climbed his way in, "Come on, through here!" he shouted back to Brad.

"Right!" Brad replied as he dashed up to the vehicle and hurriedly climbed in and waited for his companion to kick the door open.

The roar of the stalker was still heard close behind as the being punched its way through zombie after zombie that stood in its way. He didn't want to say it, but this mysterious new guy's planned had worked to fruition and had now bought them some extra time as they fought to stay alive in the literal necropolis.

"Man, that was fucking close!" Brad gasped crawling out of the Perennial's backseat. He fell to the ground climbing out and stood up next to Jake, who was bent over panting heavily.

"No shit...Sherlock!" he gasped and then stood upright popping some of his joints back into place.

"We have to find a place to relax," the officer said, "I don't know if we'll be able to reach the station though. The phone lines are down and all the radio frequencies are jammed. We're trapped in this place," he said shaking his head.

"There!" Jake said pointing in front of them, where a large Tool It Up hardware superstore was not too far away.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"...So that's how I wound up in this whole mess that you see before you," Brad said finishing up the third cup of coffee he had poured himself within the amount of time him and Jake had been wholed up in the hardware store.

The former S.T.A.R.S. pilot had just finished telling Jake everything he knew about the events that had transpired over the past few months: the vicious attacks in the forest, Bravo Team being sent in and never heard from again, Alpha Team mobilizing and searching the surrounding fields only to be attacked by dog-like monsters, how he tried in vain to convince the Chief of Police what was going on back at the Spencer Estate and was forced to go back or face serious charges, how he had witnessed the battle on the mansion tarmac below between his surviving S.T.A.R.S. teammates and some hideous seven foot tall genetic mutation and how he then tipped the scales in their favor by dropping his rocket launcher down to Chris, the mansion being blown sky high, the intense scrutiny from his fellow officers, S.T.A.R.S.' suspension, the random murders occurring around town, and then ending with the events of tonight. The man had spent a little over an entire hour telling his new acquaintance of what had happened and he was glad to finally get it off his chest.

The influx of information blew Jake's mind and he could only sit and ponder what was probably going on outside as they spoke. Now he truly was in over his head with accepting this mission and was anxious to get his hands around the throat of his mysterious benefactor.

"Man, that is some seriously fucked up shit you have just told me," the young career criminal sighed resting his head against the wall behind him. He was fighting to stay awake after everything he had been through and knew that falling asleep in an unguarded place like this would only leave him open to be torn apart by those critters he had encountered all over the city. Having his heavy jacket and shoes removed along with all of his weapons made the urges stronger and he slapped himself to stay awake.

Brad on the other hand looked to frightened to fall asleep and was already pouring himself his fourth cup of coffee as they sat in the second floor break room. The room had numerous booths near large plate glass windows that overlooked the entire store, meaning the two men would have a bird's eyeview of things and would spot the first thing to come through the front doors. The room also had several soda and candy machines which the career criminal had raided, trying to give himself the caffeine to stay awake, but it was proving to be of no use as he felt his eyelids fluttering. The newspaper he held in hand slipped from his grasp and fell to the polished floor below and he passed out.

"Just great..." the S.T.A.R.S. officer whispered as he watched Jake slump backwards and fall asleep. The man was out of it and he had dead weight to carry around and knew it would be hard to rouse him with everything he had probably been through in one night.

Brad slurped his coffee quietly and saw the newspaper lying at the man's feet. Usually whenever he felt nervous he would read, but right now his self help books were locked away in the S.T.A.R.S. office back at the station and he dare not read the paper for fear of reading the same revolting headlines that had been plastered all over the papers for the past few weeks. Nothing but stories of murder after murder being committed around the city by unknown assailants. The day before the outbreak, he had heard several officers in Emmy's Diner conversing about how they had to be called to a different crime scene every single day and sometimes to more than one location in a day.

The thoughts of encountering the attackers face to face sent chills up and down his spine, especially since they were probably linked to the incident up at the mansion from two months before.

He had witnessed from the safety of his cockpit as his teammate Joseph Frost was systematically torn apart by what he thought of as "demon dogs from Hell" and then later heard the explicit tales of how they had stumbled across the mutilated remains of Kevin Dooley who had also been torn apart by those dogs, and then later how Kenneth J. Sullivan had been torn apart by what Jill described as a "zombie," and then how Chris happened across the corpse of Forest Speyer, who had apparently been pecked to death by crows, but then suddenly came back to life and attacked him, forcing Chris to shoot him to death. Richard Aiken had still been alive and was initially dragged to safety by Chris and Rebecca, but was later torn apart by a shark. Edward had also been attacked by either those demon dogs or zombies and was bitten severely. Rebecca told him with tears in her eyes of how she had to shoot him to death as well. Enrico had been shot to death by an unseen assailant, who was later found out to be Wesker.

Just hearing about those deaths frightened him a great deal and to this day he still had nightmares about those demon dogs ripping apart his teammate right before his very eyes. He had visited the station's psychiatrist several times about this issue, but nothing the doc did for him could help, he still blamed himself for his teammate's deaths. The pressure eventually became too much for him and he fled for the seclusion of the north woods.

And then tonight had to happen.

Brad had come back to town for the first time in over a month after receiving a threatening phone call from teammate Barry Burton, who informed him that Umbrella was making major plans overseas and they needed both him and Jill to meet up with them right away.

He was in a sense glad to receive the phone call because then he figured he could make it up to Jill for abandoning her and everybody else on that fateful night. Jill had always been nice to him and would come to his defense whenever the guys around the station would pick on him for being a coward.

He could remember a particular incident in which he had been practicing down at the station's firing range when a jerk named Busch had snuck up behind him and fired an entire clip full of blanks at him just to see him freak out in front of a bunch of his fellow officers. The incident had made him the laughing stock of the whole station, but once Jill received news of this ordeal, she quickly tracked down this Busch fellow and although he never learned exactly of what she did to him, from that day forth Busch never picked on him ever again.

Jill and Rebecca forgave Brad, but Chris and Barry were not as forgiving and the pilot felt deep down that either man would have killed him if given the chance. Right now he really hated himself for being a coward and tonight would be no different as he would find himself in a repeat scenario of what happened in the Arklay Mountains two months back.

Dusk had fallen upon the sleepy mountain community when Brad arrived in town. He came in the Jeep Mesa he had purchased shortly after first joining S.T.A.R.S. a few years back. The roads were strangely quiet and this frightened the pilot greatly, making him thankful for packing his Glock-17 handgun and all that extra ammunition that he had stashed up at his safehouse. He moved further into the city until he came across the Taxago gas station and decided to stop and try to get a hold of Jill hoping she was still around.

Unfortunately, the phone lines were dead and the man found himself nervously drawing his pistol. It was then that he heard a crash and decided to go investigate.

The man known by many as "Chickenheart" would nearly have a heart attack when he discovered what was behind the crash.

Before him stood a horribly disfigured station attendant who was in the middle of feasting on the remains of a young woman who had died with a terrible look of anguish upon her features. The woman's child lay nearby torn apart in the most heartless manner possible as did an elderly lady who lay not too far away from them.

The image made the officer sick to his stomach. He had now seen an actual zombie live in the flesh!

Having seen the movies before, the pilot wisely aimed for the former human's head and pulled the trigger, ending the creature's heartless reign of terror forever.

More moans were heard from behind and Brad turned around to find a whole mass of zombies approaching him at a rate he had no idea the walking dead were capable of. Acting on instinct alone, he began firing wildly into the oncoming crowd until there was a loud boom followed by a wall of fire swallowing the walking cadavers whole.

Brad was temporarily relieved by whatever had just saved him, but his horror immediately returned upon spotting his "savior"

The creature that stood before him was an eight foot tall mockery of human nature that put all previous monsters to shame. The creature was also capable of using explosives and aimed a rocket launcher at the young man before uttering a single word, "S.T.A.R.S"

Ever since then, the monster has been chasing him all over town, stalking his every waking moment. The creature was after S.T.A.R.S. members, deepening his incentive to find Jill and get the hell out of town. This had to be Umbrella's doing he thought to himself as he sat in the break room gulping down his coffee.

Jake sat in the booth ahead of him passed out cold with his head leaning back against the wall. Brad was easily intimidated by the muscular man, especially by that vampiric glare that seemingly never left his eyes. It reminded him a lot of that creepy goth kid who from his sophomore Biology class who always sat in the back and carved Pentagrams into the desks and would come in reeking of marijuana smoke. He too had that same vampiric gaze that sent chills up and down the spines of all around him. He was more that just that frightening gaze too, he was a legitimate threat, having beaten up several people around campus, carrying a switchblade on him at all times, and was finally expelled after trying to blow up the chemistry lab. The S.T.A.R.S. officer saw a lot of that man in Jake just through his gaze alone.

At the same time, he was also worried about the man being out like that because Jake had seemed like a capable enough fighter who could have easily torn through scores of zombies when needed and would be of great assistance if he were to stick around.

Still, there was something that was not right about that guy. None of what was going on around him seemed to faze him at all, it was almost as if he was made of ice. The stone-faced, vampiric gaze expressions amplified the effect by ten and could easily frighten almost anybody.

The former S.T.A.R.S. officer couldn't help but ponder as he stared at the sleeping man in front of him until a thunderous crash came from below that knocked him to the floor and rattled Jake from his slumber.

"No...Not again"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake Cavanaugh laid back in a deep thoughtless slumber one second and the next would find himself thrown violently to the floor by a thunderous crash that rocked the foundation of the entire building.

"Fuckin' A!" the career criminal cried as he landed hard on his right hip and gritted his teeth to hold back a cry of pain, "What the hell is going on now?" he blurted out as he felt the pain surge throughout his leg. He strained his ears for a reply, only to receive a whimper from Brad.

"No...Not again"

"Ah fuck!" Jake grunted as he sat up and tried to force himself back to his feet, bracing himself against one of the tables, "What the fuck is it man?" he gasped as he moved himself over to where the S.T.A.R.S. pilot stood and stared intently at what had just arrived.

The front automatic doors had been smashed and knocked from their tracks surrounded by a crumbling wall with large chunks of concrete blocking most of the entrance. Dust clouds had risen into the air and filled much of the lower level, obscuring the two men's vision. The career criminal strained his vision to see beyond the dust and crumbling debris and spotted the silhouette of a familiar eight foot tall beast.

"Here we go again..." he muttered.

"What are we going to do?" Brad cried as he pulled out his handgun and looked around like he wasn't aware of his surroundings.

"Heh, you're the cop! Aren't you supposed to be telling me what to do?" Jake sardonically chuckled.

"We have to find some way out of here. There's probably a front door, but it's down on the first floor and with that thing running around are chances of getting out are pretty slim!" the man spook hurriedly as he ducked down to avoid being spotted by the creature.

Jake looked out onto the floor and saw that their stalker stood still breathing heavily and probably hadn't yet spotted them. The dust had began to slowly disperse and through the obscured aisles managed to spot where numerous small items like nails, ball bearings, light bulbs, and other small random items were kept. He spotted some buckets nearby and remembered the C-4 explosives and detonator he carried on him, along with numerous hand grenades.

"Come on, I think I might have an idea as to how we can stop this thing. Just come with me, do what I say, and keep your head low!" Jake ordered the officer, who sat there with a bewildered look, obviously not used to being ordered around by an "ordinary civilian." Nevertheless, the man slowly nodded his head and began to follow.

The two men quietly made their way back to the lower floor and ducked behind displays and shelves until they reached the aisle Jake was looking for. Making sure the coast was clear, he spoke to the officer, "Alright, I'm planning a big bang that's going to send this steroid-addled freak on a one way trip straight to the moon. I'm going to need to make some extra shrapnel and gather my explosives together and I want you to distract that freak if it comes anywhere near me"

Brad was nearly knocked backwards by the idea and had to force back a blurted reply, "Are you crazy? Me...Distracting that thing! That thing will rip me limb by limb if it finds me! Please tell me you have a backup plan"

Jake shook his head, "It's either that or we try the front door where that undead Jolly Green Giant wannabe is waiting for us. You say that thing is after S.T.A.R.S. members, right? That makes you the perfect bait for it. Look, you just have to run around for a few minutes and keep that thing away from me. There should be a back door to this place, I promise I'll call when it's time to go. For now, just keep it occupied and I'll do the rest"

The S.T.A.R.S. pilot couldn't believe what he was hearing, but the man was right. Right now they probably didn't have much choice and if they didn't act quickly they would both be dead.

With a silent nod, Brad crouch walked over behind a shelving unit full of vacuums and peeked his head over towards the entrance.

The creature was gone!

The pilot forced himself to hold back an obscenity and quietly peeked around a corner to find nothing once more.

"S.T.A.R.S"

The ragged voice called out and heavy footsteps moved closer and closer towards his direction. The ground shook beneath him and moving as quickly and as silently as he could, he dove behind a parked lawn mower display and then scuttled behind another shelf. He could sense that the creature was still close and tracking the human as if he were sniffing him out. The monster stopped and let out a mighty roar that nearly shattered the glass fixtures within the store.

Brad let out a small whimper and clamped his hands over his ears. He knew he would scream aloud if he could hear all of the creature's battle cry. This time, he had to stay alive not just for his own sake, but for the sake of another human being as well.

The Nemesis creature stalked down the aisles in search of the S.T.A.R.S. member it had encountered earlier in the back alley. It was programmed to be the perfect killing machine and its first assigned task was to locate and eliminate the surviving S.T.A.R.S. members still within the city. Complete descriptions of each survivor had been implanted in the monstrosity's brain so it would know what it was looking for. Despite not having orders to hunt down civilians, the large creature killed indiscriminately without remorse. Nobody who crossed its path was safe.

To kill was the only thought that ran through its underdeveloped brain.

"S.T.A.R.S." the creature uttered, reminding itself again of its intended targets until it heard a sound that brought it to a sudden halt.

Metal upon metal filled the air as screws, nails, ball bearings, and other small sharp objects were being poured into tin buckets.

Could it be the S.T.A.R.S. member from earlier?

"S.T.A.R.S"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Shit!" Jake muttered as he heard the battle cry of the pursuing monster. He could tell by the sound of the creature's heavy footsteps that it was only a few aisles away and would probably break into a run at any moment. Several screws and nails still laid in front of him and he quickly scooped up as much as he could with his gloved hands. He looked down to see three buckets laying before him stacked to the top with sharp metallic objects and the glass of smashed light fixtures he had broken over the metal shelves.

"S.T.A.R.S"

"Gotta go," he whispered quietly grabbing hold of the buckets and running down the aisle. He had to reach the back room where several gas canisters were kept, there he could set up his makeshift trap for the monster.

CRASH!

The monster had spotted him and knocked over an entire shelf with a powerful backhand and broke into a sprint hot on his tail.

"Fuck!" he cursed as he could feel the monster gaining ground. Despite the career criminal's above average speed for a man of his size, the eight foot tall behemoth behind him ran with the speed of a cheetah, plowing through carts, crates, displays, and anything else standing in its way to get at its unknown target.

"Come on, almost there," Jake said as he skidded around a corner and spotted a back door labeled "Employees Only." A smile crept across his face as he ran while trying to keep the buckets as full as he possibly could. He ran on and could sense the creature behind him drawing back its arm.

The Nemesis roared as it reared back and threw a powerful punch which the criminal would duck under, driving its fist through an aluminum shelving wall. It suddenly slowed down as it was forced to pull its arm out.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Jake heard the gunshots explode in the air as he reached the back door and turned to see Brad firing into the stalker's backside. The creature had now lost interest in him and re-focused on the S.T.A.R.S. member it was set to eliminate. He quietly thanked the man for buying him some extra time.

With a heavy heave, Jake kicked the door open and found himself in a storage room full of explosive canisters as he had expected. Straight ahead were three large canisters used for heating entire houses and knew this was the spot. Placing the buckets in strategic positions, he removed the C-4 from his sidepack and began setting things up.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Stay away you freak!" Brad cried firing over his shoulder at the monster.

The monster chasing him took in all the bullets as if they were made of clay and continued its relentless pursuit as it swung its fist and sent a flower pot flying into the air, forcing the ex-pilot to duck.

"Go away!" he cried firing shot after shot into the stalker until his clip ran dry, "No!" He cried out repeatedly as he fumbled around his pockets for an extra clip and finally felt the cool surface of one when he was forced to duck under a clothesline from his pursuer and fell to the ground.

"Ahhh!" the S.T.A.R.S. member screamed as the monster stood over him and looked deep into his eyes with its own soulless white eye.

"S.T.A.R.S"

The beast stood above him and raised its right hand with fingers outstretched. The skin in its wrist began convulsing and with a sickening splat a pink tentacle shot out from the creature's arm and wiggled sickly in the air.

"Brad"

Jake's voice rang through the air, snapping the ex-S.T.A.R.S. officer back to his senses. The man felt around him and grasped the clip that lay only inches away from him. The tentacle shot down and struck the floor next to him as the human rolled out of the way at the last second.

"Fuck off freak!" Brad shouted defiantly and squeezed the trigger, emptying an entire clip into the monster's chest and face, sending purple blood splattering all around him.

Nemesis roared again and brought its fist down, striking the tiled floor and leaving a pothole where its fist had connected.

"I'm coming!" Brad cried out to Jake as he scampered back to his feet, but felt the creature's icy hand grip the back of his vest. The young man didn't even have the time to cry out as the creature turned him around so he again looked directly into its hideous face.

"S.T.A.R.S.!" the Nemesis growled as it brought its tentacled hand up to the officer's face.

All Brad could do now was squeeze his eyes shut and think of all that he would miss out on now that his life was about to be taken away from him at this very moment.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

Powerful gunshots erupted in the air followed by the monster's exasperated cry. A second later, Brad was released and fell to the ground with a light thud.

"What?" he asked as he slowly opened his eyes.

Jake stood before him reloading his magnum with a look of grim defiance etched into his features. The creature had turned to face him and began walking towards him with long, powerful strides.

"Come get some!" he dared the creature and fired a round into its forehead, splattering purple blood all over its face, "Brad now! We have to go!" he shouted with a motion towards the back door.

The career criminal's shot did not kill the creature, but it did temporarily stun it and pissed it off even more than it had been before. With a new surge in adrenaline, the creature extended its arms and threw its head back to let out another massive roar before making its next charge.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Brad shouted as he saw the creature take a magnum round to the cranium and keep coming back for more.

"Don't worry about it, just get moving!" Jake demanded as he fired a few more rounds into the creature's chest, knocking it back a step with every connecting shot, "Sorry pal, don't hunt what you cannot kill!" the criminal smirked before firing a round into the pursuer's head that sent its blood gushing into the air like a geyser. The monster could only cry out in pain as it fought to stop the bleeding and then looked up with its one eye almost glowing in rage.

"Yes, follow me you son of a bitch!" Jake taunted as he ran through the back door.

Nemesis was angry, very angry. It was being outsmarted by a couple of ordinary humans that had managed to evade it for so long, especially one of its intended targets playing hard to get. It could feel that the man was close by and on the run. Its creators gave the creature superhuman senses in addition to its superhuman strength and the ability to run unlike its other Tyrants and rotting zombies. The monster wanted to get its hands on the S.T.A.R.S. member and pop its skull like a cherry.

The creature let out a small roar as it charged for the back door where it had just seen the mysterious individual in the black trenchcoat that had pissed it off with those rounds fired into its face. He decided he would not just kill the S.T.A.R.S. member, but also exact some revenge on its new found adversary.

Bringing up its fist, Nemesis knocked the door from its hinges and barged into the room ready to kill. But strangely enough, there was nothing to be found.

The monster had found itself in a storage room full of numerous gas canisters and other useless objects. It quieted itself down and moved methodically around the room, the only sounds made being its heavy footsteps which it could not disguise. Stalking around the room, the monster spotted a ventilation cover that had been removed.

BEEP! BEEP!

The beep of a radio-controlled device came from behind the creature and it turned around to find several pounds of C-4 set up next to three large canisters in the center of the room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

KA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM!

The Tool It Up superstore vanished into a large ball of reddish-orange flames as the explosives detonated engulfing several small buildings and vehicles parked nearby, creating a chain reaction that traveled down the street and scorched many surrounding buildings and swallowed zombies wandering about aimlessly.

Jake and Brad slowly peeked out of the deli they had hidden in across the street and looked up at the massive inferno that stood before them. The mighty roar of the flames filled the air and the two men stared intently at the fire before them and gradually looked upwards at the black pillars of smoke and the bright orange embers that dotted them.

Brad stared worriedly into the center of the blinding blaze and then looked towards Jake, "Do you think we killed it"

The career criminal stood tall looking pleased with his work, "Should have. I detonated enough explosives to incinerate an entire herd of elephants, should be no way in Hell he could have survived that blast"

"Oh god I hope so," Brad sighed and then stepped outside, "Well it was nice meeting you Mr. Smith, but I've gotta find Jill. She's out there somewhere probably being mobbed by those freaks as we speak. I have to find her and get her out of this place as soon as possible." He began to walk away, but turned to face Jake one last time, "Thanks for your help. If it weren't for you I probably would have died back there"

Strangely, the criminal found himself smiling at the officer, "No problem man, survivors have to watch each other's backs. You take care of yourself," the man said giving the departing S.T.A.R.S. member a quick two finger salute. The man nodded in acknowledgment and began jogging down the street and vanished into the darkness.

"Now to resume my own mission and bring in that Birkin bastard's head," Jake said to himself withdrawing his assault rifle and ducking out the deli's backdoor. However, as quickly as he stepped out the back door he would bump into yet another survivor.

"Wait, don't shoot! I come in peace, amigo!" the man shouted throwing his hands into the air.

"What the hell?" Jake muttered staring at the man. This man looked like a South American native with dark brown hair that hung beneath his ears and dark brown eyes. He was dressed like that Reso man he had encountered back in the alley behind the Raccoon Express building an hour earlier.

"Eh man, you can put the gun down now! I come in peace," the man said again and then turned around to address some unseen individuals, "Hey guys! I've found a survivor!" Several pairs of footsteps and voices followed.

"Mind telling me what is going on here?" Jake asked staring at the approaching figures.

"Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Services. We're here on a rescue mission," the man replied and then fell silent as his comrades approached.

There were seven heavily armed men who approached, all dressed in U.B.C.S. uniforms and carrying assault rifles similar to what he had, except for one man who carried an M-60 heavy machine gun. One of the men, an older man with snow white hair and cold blue eyes approached Carlos and spoke to him, "Is this all there is?" the man asked with a heavy Russian accent.

"Yes, I am the only survivor, now please tell me what is going on here?" Jake asked the man.

"Sergeant Nicholai Ginovaef, Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Services. I see you have already met Pvt. Carlos Oliveira," the older man spoke nodding in the young Hispanic man's direction, "We have been sent by Umbrella and are on a search and rescue mission. We are to round up whatever survivors we can find and bring them to St. Michael's Clock Tower at once"

"So Umbrella is actually trying to save some people," Jake thought sarcastically to himself, "Probably just some clean up crew that would shoot you dead the second you got outside the city limits and bury you in a shallow grave. All just lowly G.I. JOE-wannabes. I can take them if they try anything funny, especially that Ginovaef guy. That man is hiding something," he thought as he stared at all of the men around him.

The first man he spotted other than Carlos and Nicholai was a tall, lanky individual who appeared to be American in appearance with short black hair covered by a bandana and had an ugly scar running down one side of his face. The man's nametag read "Seeker" and he hugged one of the brick walls clutching his M4A1 tightly.

Next to him stood a shorter African-American man with short black hair worn in a crewcut and wire-rimmed glasses resting on his face. The man's nametag read "Patrick" and Jake saw several hand grenades strapped to his jacket, suggesting his specialty must be in demolitions.

Standing in the center of the alley was a large bear of a man with short reddish-brown hair covered by a green beret. The man currently held an M4A1 in hand, but also had a shotgun, magnum, and even a rocket launcher strapped to his body. This man's nametag read "Victor"

Standing heavily-armed soldier was a younger man dressed similar to him, except with lighter brown hair and blue eyes. The man's nametag read "Schneider" and he appeared to be American in appearance.

Sitting on a crate near the back entrance to a jewelry store was a thin-faced man with short brown hair covered by a forest green bandana. This man's nametag read "Giles" and he carried a PSG-1 sniper rifle, giving away his position as a tactical sniper.

The last man of the group was much larger than all of the others and had a beret covering his shaved head and had a face that looked like it belonged on Mt. Rushmoore with his chiseled appearance. The man's nametag read "Daggett" and he carried an M-60 heavy machine gun that put everybody else's assault rifles to shame.

All of the men stood around silently until their radios crackled with life, "Sgt. Ginovaef! Hirami! Mikhail! Anybody! This is Bader!" a British accented voice called out, "We need backup immediately! Some of those rotting undead freaks have Delacroix and myself cut off! They've already killed quite a few of our men and we're low on ammo over here! We need some bloody backup now or those wankers are gonna tear us apart"

Nicholai immediately picked up his radio and spoke into it, "This is Sgt. Ginovaef, state your position immediately comrade"

There was silence for a few seconds before Bader's voice was heard again over the shots of gunfire, "We're at some place on Marion St., some laundromat. Hydro Clean I believe the name of the place is!" the soldier's voice shouted while more gunfire rattled in the background, "Get over here now"

"We're on our way!" Nicholai replied and then pulled out a laminated map from his rucksack and located their current position. He moved his finger along the smooth surface before he located Marion St. and then looked up to his subordinates, "According to my map, we are only two blocks away from Marion St. We will need to get their immediately and recover our two teammates before they can be made into meals for those walking corpses," he then looked up to his men, "Daggett, Schneider! I want both of you on point. You will clear out anything that attacks us from the front. Mikhail, have your rocket launcher ready. If the group becomes too large, dispatch them immediately. Patrick and Seeker, both of you take left flank. Oliveira and Giles, I want both of you on right flank," all of the men nodded and the Russian then turned his attention to Jake, "And you are"

"Smith, Jake Smith," the career criminal lied.

"Mr. Smith, I want you to keep close by me. As a survivor your survival is of the utmost significance and we wish not to place you in harm's way"

Jake scoffed at the remark and proudly displayed his assault rifle, "Hey, I'm no ordinary helpless civvie, buddy! I've been fighting my way through scores of those rotting freaks and God knows what else all night long and I'm still around to talk shit about it, aren't I? I'd watch my own back if I were you"

The U.B.C.S. commander stopped suddenly and eyed the career criminal warily, struck by his sudden outburst. A smirk suddenly appeared on his face, "Fine, you wish to do battle with these carriers then it is your decision," he turned his back and then looked over his shoulder, "Just don't come whining to me when they are tearing into your flesh and feasting on your intestines." He then returned his attention to his men, "Come along, let's move out"

A/N: I realize that this chapter is pretty gory and I'm debating whether or not I should move this story over to the "M" section or not. Well read and review when you get the chance and NO FLAMES please! SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! m/


	13. Chapter 11: A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

Darkness Arises by E-Z B

Chapter 11: A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

The back alley remained quiet and devoid of any hostile threats as the group of survivors quickly moved through, at the same time trying to keep the level of noise down so they would not attract any unwanted attention from possible nearby zombies.

Jake moved at the back of the group alongside Sgt. Ginovaef in the very formation the man had ordered minutes earlier. Daggett and Schneider both moved at the front of the pack with weapons drawn and constantly scanning their side directions to make sure no attackers would burst from the nearby windows and every so often the field scout would move a few steps ahead and then signal back to his much larger counterpart that it was okay to proceed further. Mikhail was right behind both men almost nipping at their heels with assault rifle raised. The career criminal could only stare in envy at the sturdy rocket launcher strapped to the man's back. Sure Jake himself carried several guns at the moment, but that almighty rocket launcher alone put his entire collection to shame for it could wipe out an entire pack of zombies in a second while he would waste several extra seconds gunning down more approaching zombies at a slower rate. Patrick and Seeker moved at the left of the group often brushing against Mikhail as they moved to dodge large objects littering the narrow alley. Giles and Carlos experienced the same problem as they moved at the right of the group and Giles spent most of the time looking towards the sky with his sniper rifle keeping lookout for any possible threats from above.

The career criminal kept his assault rifle raised at eye level looking over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure they weren't being followed and then stopped to catch a brief glimpse at the unit's leader. The man advanced with assault rifle drawn, but the icy glare on his face remained the same, almost as if the man was a robot. Something was not right about him, almost as if he knew more information than what he was feeding to his subordinates. It was almost as if he anticipated this whole ordeal. All of the ordinary civilians he had encountered earlier in the night had been understandably rattled because they had never expected something like this to ever occur, but this man, he was a totally different story. Only somebody who knew something like this would happen in advance could be so calm and collected, he just had to know something.

From up ahead Schneider raised his hand motioning for the group to stop and everybody came to an immediate halt.

"What is it?" Daggett asked.

"Shh! Can you guys hear that?" Schneider loudly whispered to the group. All of the men strained their ears to listen for whatever the field scout had just heard. Above the sound of the blowing wind they were able to make out the distinct sound of skin being ripped from bone and the smacking of multiple sets of lips.

"Damn, we must be close to another freaking zombie feast!" Giles piped up.

"Keep it down, homes! They'll hear us!" Carlos loudly shouted to his teammate, placing his hand in front of the man.

Jake listened to the sound of the undead masticating and tried to make out the number of zombies nearby. Judging by the distinctive moans coming from each different zombie, he assumed that there were maybe three or four zombies that could easily be eliminated by an entire group of heavily armed soldiers.

"Keep moving with weapons ready. If anything looks undead and crosses your path, kill it!" Nicholai ordered in his icy monotone and motioned for the group to press forward.

The group of soldiers resumed their objective of reaching their comrades at the Hydro Clean laundromat and continued at the same pace they moved at before, only now in a higher state of alert. The nine men rounded a corner where they happened across the "zombie feast" Giles had mentioned. There were four zombies altogether, with two each munching on the corpses of a young couple and thus barred them from further advancing.

"We don't have time to waste, I'll take these freaks!" Daggett announced raising his M-60 and firing a hot trail of lead into the bothersome creatures that stood before them, painting the dull brick walls with the slimy crimson blood of the walking cadavers. "Threat neutralized!" the large man shouted back.

"Move!" the icy Russian ordered and on cue the men now began running as fast as they could without care if there were anymore undead creatures loitering around nearby. They wanted to get out of there and get to their stranded comrades as fast as possible. Reaching the end of the alley led the unit to another deserted street which had been lined with once fashionable uptown restaurants that were now filled with broken glass, demolished furniture, decaying corpses, and some with small fires that were gradually growing larger by the minute. They had to get out before they could be caught in any blazes.

While advancing at a full sprint, Nicholai managed to pull out his laminated map and used his lightning-quick thinking to read the map, "Schneider, Daggett! Take a right! We should be only two blocks away from Marion St.!"

Nodding in acknowledgment, the two men leading the pack took a quick right onto another street where a single zombie stood around mindlessly and was quickly took down by a shot from Schneider.

"Through that alley! We're taking a shorcut!" Nicholai shouted as he ran past a wrecked car, where the former inhabitant had been trapped inside and pounded away mindlessly at the cracked windshield.

Jake ran at the back of group and looked over his shoulder to see more zombies emerge from surrounding alleys and shops chasing mindlessly after the nine survivors. It was a sure sign of things to come as the men neared their next destination and if they didn't do something about this group, then chances were they would surely catch up as the men reached the laundromat where there were supposedly more zombies lingering outside waiting to get in.

Then, he suddenly remembered Mikhail and his rocket launcher, that could slow this group down.

"Mikhail!" Jake called towards the older Russian.

"What is it, comrade?" the soldier asked and then suddenly turned around and nearly gasped at the sight of the growing group of zombies creeping up on them.

"Use your rocket launcher! Send them to hell!" Jake ordered pulling a grenade from belt strapped to his waist and chucking it into the group.

The hardened soldier wasted no time as he withdrew the mighty rocket launcher and sunk down to one knee, hoisting the weapon onto his broad shoulder and lining up his sights with the very center of the group and pulled the trigger, sending a concussive anti-tank missile soaring into the very heart of the undead movement and sending many more creatures to a permanent death.

Jake's relief was quickly drained from his system as saw a chain reaction created by wrecked vehicles that had been parked on the street and it was moving towards them, "Oh shit, come on!" he shouted to the soldier and the two men joined the others in another alley.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They were everywhere beneath them. An entire army of zombies had congregated at the front door of the Hydro Clean laundromat and were pounding away furiously at the aluminum shutter and were yanking away at the iron bars protecting the front store windows, anxious to get a piece of the survivors within.

Gunshots from above rang out above the sound of the zombies' pained moans and three zombies fell over dead. Several additional shots failed to catch the zombies in their heads and only knocked them backwards. The former townspeople rose up seconds later joined by new colleagues and continued their attempts at getting inside the laundromat.

"Eat this you bloody sodding wankers!" Gavin Bader roared as he stuck the muzzle of his Colt M4A1 assault rifle through the smashed window before him and fired another barrage into the crowd of undead below, dropping one zombie instantly and blowing another's arm off. The man silently cursed himself for not killing that second zombie as he had now just wasted precious ammunition. The mercenary had already gone through several clips fighting against the undead monsters and had used up all of his grenades so every last bullet counted.

The popping of Jacques Delacroix's assault rifle followed immediately as the French marksman stuck the muzzle of his rifle through a crack in the window before him and fired a burst into the mass of decaying flesh, dropping two zombies and killing another two with a single bullet that traveled through a taller zombie's skull and lodged itself into the right temple of an old lady in a bloody sun dress. "Sacre bleu! Zese damned scoundrels are all over ze place! Zose men you contacted better get over zere az zoon as possible!"

"I know ya' can't wait ol' chap, but ya' gotta hold onto yer damned trousers if ya' wants to make it outta this damned shithole alive!" the Brit retorted firing a shot downward into the face of a zombie who tried foolish climbing the bars on the front window, "For God's sake, if I kept going apeshit everytime something went all to pot I'd be puttin' the damned gun in my own trap right now!"

"Oui, Monsieur Know-It-All, tell me zat when I got zese rotting freaks tearing down dat front door and chomping down on my spleen!" the former French Foreign Legion soldier shouted as he dropped another zombie with a single shot between the eyes. He then proceeded to fire another barrage into the crowd, dropping another zombie with a shot to the neck that sent its blood spraying into the air like a geyser and showering its surrounding kind. "Dear lord..." the young merc muttered as he watched surrounding zombies suddenly divert their attention from the laundromat to the corpse that had just fallen before them and began ripping into the freshly deceased zombie. The man looked away with a look of sheer terror and disgust.

Gavin Bader gave a sympathetic look to his colleague as he understood the man's horror all too well.

"For the millionth time tonight I ask myself where the hell did these bloody freaks come from?" the former S.A.S. member thought to himself as he stared down at the vile, yet pitiful creatures that stood before him.

The two men were mercenaries under the employ of the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasures Service and had been sent into Raccoon City on a mission to rescue survivors and take them to the St. Michael's Clock Tower for extraction. Each man was expected to be paid fifty-thousand dollars up front for a successful mission completed and they had hoped to make it back home in one piece, but fate would have other plans and immediately things had gone to hell in a handbasket.

Both men came from the same unit, Bader was the demolitions specialist and Delacroix was a field scout who doubled as a marksman, that was scheduled to be dropped off atop King Industries office complex on the east side of town and would work their way down to the streets where they were immediately surrounded by an army of sick looking people. Their commanding officer, Captain Andrei Markovsky, tried to calm the people down and tell them that his platoon could take them to safety, but the townspeople lunged at the man and began tearing him to shreds like a pack of rabid dogs and then attacked the two men and their comrades.

Many of their comrades fell immediately.

Christopher Affleck, a rookie operative, jumped upon watching his commanding officer be torn to shreds by the ravenous townspeople and fired several rounds into the chest of a man in a transit worker's uniform, only to have the man stagger back to his feet seconds later. Two other townspeople focused their attention on him and began shuffling towards them and the young soldier fired at them until his clip ran dry. Too paralyzed by his own fear to move, the three civilians tackled the man to the concrete and began tearing into him as they had done Captain Markovsky.

Dean O'Leary, the unit's weapons specialist had tried in vain to save the young soldier from certain doom, but was soon overpowered himself and quickly silenced with a lethal bite to the neck and then torn apart like a piece of meat. Phelps, Reid, and Judge would all quickly fall under similar circumstances and soon it would be wittled down to Bader, Delacroix, Steinburg the medic, and Hartley the heavy machine gunner.

The four men were eventually forced to fight their way through several disaster-laden streets filled with car wrecks, damaged electrical signs, broken glass, and plenty of fires that had severely impeded their progress as they tried to flee from what they could only describe as "zombies." The creatures came from everywhere, from the back alleys, the ruined shops, the sewers, and even fell from the sky as zombies dove through apartment windows to get at the prey they found on the streets.

Out of desperation, Delacroix began chucking grenades at the creatures until he was completely out and then pulled out his sniper rifle and fired a shot through the head of a child zombie that had stumbled into his path, it was there that he discovered zombies could be killed by a shot to the head and then began dropping zombies at a faster rate until he was out of ammo for his rifle and was now down to using his assault rifle and sidearm Sigpro handgun.

Bader and Hartley laid down cover fire while Steinburg delivered an occasional potshot as he frantically searched for any possible survivors who weren't contaminated by the virus. His search led him to a police officer he found slumped against a shot up police car with its lights still flashing. Upon further inspection, he found that the man had been bitten several times with several large chunks taken out of his torso and was close to bleeding to death. He tried to help the man out, but then from out of nowhere, the man developed a sudden surge of energy and bit into the medic's wrist. The young man had managed to fight the officer off and knocked the zombified police officer backwards onto the police car, snapping the former human's neck. He immediately took the man's handgun and what little ammo he had left and then jogged over to meet his comrades, who were nearly towards the end of the street.

Advancing further onto a street called "Marion St.," the four surviving mercenaries heard the cries of survivors and spotted a small group of people seeking refuge in a nearby laundromat and made a beeline towards the small establishment hoping they could lend some assistance.

The stay in the laundromat had been an unnerving one as the U.B.C.S. soldiers had been saddled with nine terrified survivors, three of whom had already been bitten by the infected townspeople, very little ammo left over from their battle on the streets, their line back to homebase severed, and their medic began acting strangely. On top of all that, there was an entire of zombies pounding away relentlessly trying to get at the survivors inside. Steinburg stayed downstairs to treat the wounded who had been hidden in a back storage room while the remaining soldiers were positioned upstairs firing down into the crowd below, hoping to slow down the zombies' advance until help could arrive, but it was proving to be a futile effort. Whenever they killed one zombie, two more would seemingly appear from out of thin air and so forth to take the place of the one who had fallen before them. The men were already running low on ammunition when the unthinkable happened.

Screams were heard coming from downstairs and Bader and Hartley would rush down to check out what was happening only to stumble across a virtual slaughterhouse, where their own teammate and the three bitten survivors had begun tearing into the other survivors like they were midnight snacks. Hartley wasted no time in mowing down the cannibals with his M-249 Squad Automatic Weapon (S.A.W.), but was quickly caught off guard by his own deranged teammate, who had grabbed the bigger man and bit into his neck from behind, killing him almost instantly.

Only hours earlier Milo Steinburg had been a normal human being whom the British merc had spent most of the day with around the base. He didn't know the man too well, but today had been different as the man had been just recently assigned to his unit and they had spent most of the day in the base recreation quarters playing pool together. He seemed like an all right guy and the two had made plans to go out for a couple beers afterwards. Now here he was tearing into a man who was supposed to be his teammate and showing that he had contracted whatever those townspeople had and there would be no cure for his affliction. The British soldier had no other choice, but to pull the trigger and send his now former teammate to the afterlife.

That had been hours ago. The mercenary had found some plywood boards and a nailgun and boarded up the small storage room so he wouldn't have to look at the aftermath of what had occurred in that room and also to hold off any of the corpses in case they weren't completely dead and decided to continue their pursuit of a fresh meal.

Gavin Bader again looked down into the crowd of undead beneath them continued to push against the door hoping to get inside. From the sound of things, the aluminum shutter was beginning to dent from the force of the zombies piling against it and with enough force they could possibly break it down. He then looked around the room they were in right now in what appeared to be a small office/rest area where on the nearby desk sat Hartley's M-249 S.A.W. and in the desk's swivel chair sat Steinburg's medical kit. Several bottles of water and rations the men carried on them were on the desk as well in case both of them needed to break for a quick snack. They hoped their help would get here soon because he didn't want to have to resort to cannibalism like those freaks outside. Just thinking of that sickened him and made him shudder.

"Get away you creatons!" Delacroix shouted taking out several zombies that were gathering around the front door. The French merc then grabbed a molotov cocktail he had saved for such an occasion and knocked away more of the glass in front of him and tossed the crude weapon into the sea of zombies and ignited several of them.

"Bastards..." Bader muttered as he poked his rifle out and fired a round into the skull of a white-haired man in a security officer's uniform, "That damned backup better get here soon," he said to himself as he almost felt tempted to call out for help again, but he was positive that they were close by and the man who had answered the call was Sgt. Nicholai Ginovaef and he had known that man to be stubborn as an ox and as cunning as a fox, if anybody could reach them it would be him, especially if he had backup.

The young soldier knew he could not get his hopes up too high, or else if fate had other plans he would be shot down even further than he had been before, as was evidenced by the gruesome deaths of Hartley and Steinburg and all his other comrades who had perished tonight. Like many of his fellow comrades, he began to curse himself for his greed. All U.B.C.S. agents were promised fifty-thousand dollars for this mission, which had officially turned into a damned suicide mission. When he served in the British S.A.S., he had never had to do any missions like this and right now he would rather be battling heavily armed terrorist rather than an entire city full of zombies. Just thinking about his time in the S.A.S. made him think about the family he had left behind back home in Suffolk and how he would probably never see any of his closest relatives ever again. He mentally chided himself for not following his father's advice and taking over the family's brewery when he retired. He could have gone so far in that industry and there would have been so much more he could have experienced, but now it was too late and he was sure to die due to his own selfish greed. All he could do now was try to rescue as many people as he possibly could and kill as many of these zombies as he could before they could harm anybody else.

The young Briton looked down into the crowd of undead once again as Delacroix stood across from him firing into the crowd of zombies, hoping to take down those who were at the door before they could further damage the shutter. His hopes of rescue continued to dwindle, until he suddenly spotted a shadowy figure on one of the rooftops across the street. All he could recall after that was a loud fizzing noise, followed by a bright light, a great warmth, and then an earth-shattering explosion that sent him flying backwards.

KA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The rocket connected right in the very heart of the group of undead that had gathered on the street below, sending charred bodies flying through the air and splattering against the concrete buildings like bugs against a windshield. Even more were killed as the flames of the explosion blanketed them and quickly reduced the stumbling dead to charred piles of bones.

Mikhail Victor raised the rocket launcher from his shoulder and stared at the blaze he had just created, proud of his work. He realized that the things he had just slaughtered were once human beings, but now they were the living dead and could not be cured of their condition, they had to be eliminated before they could pass on their horrendous cannibal disease to anybody else and worse yet, beyond the city limits.

"Comrade Victor, has the threat been neutralized yet?" Nicholai called through his radio.

Lt. Victor picked up his radio to respond, "Rocket has been launched," he replied squinting down into the street below but quickly had to back off as the flames were hurting his eyes. He wouldn't need to use his eyes as his ears told him what he needed to hear. He could hear several moans from below, indicating that he had not entirely done his job, "Wait, I hear more of them. There are more survivors!" he shouted.

"Acknowledged," came the reply from the other line.

Nicholai watched the exchange from afar with his binoculars as his teammate fired a rocket into the crowd of zombies that had congregated outside of the laundromat. The blast had decimated a majority of the creatures, but through the wall of flames he could still see the shadowy figures of several zombies still stumbling about. It didn't bother him too much though because they were all about to die anyway.

The rugged Russian then turned his attention over to the remaining soldiers and lone survivor they had discovered on the streets, "Lt. Victor needs our help. Daggett, I want you to lead the way. I want the rest of you to back him up and Giles, I want you to pick off any remaining targets from a distance." All of the soldiers nodded in approval and began their march.

"What about me, Sergeant?" Jake asked switching to a sardonic tone when uttering the older man's title.

"Yes, what about you? Civilian..." the U.B.C.S. sergeant replied using the same mocking tone the career criminal had before.

"Don't assume that just because I am technically a "civilian" that I cannot fight," the young criminal spoke displaying his assault rifle, "Give me some orders and I can back up your men in any way I would be needed, better that than sitting around here waiting to die," he finished in a very demanding tone.

The older man glared at him and did not speak for several seconds. He could tell that the man did not like having his authority questioned and frankly he didn't care. He stood there unafraid of the man and would have greatly put a bullet between the man's eyes if the other soldiers hadn't been around. His cold stare met the sergeant's as if the men were involved in a Wild Western style showdown with neither side showing any sign of giving up anytime soon.

"Well, what's it going to be, Sergeant?" he nearly growled as he waited for the man to make his move.

The rugged sergeant stared him down for a few more seconds until a smirk suddenly crept across his features, "So you really wish to throw yourself into harm's way? Fine, I have no problem with that. My men will need backup, go and aid them at once!" the man ordered pointing his finger towards the direction the soldiers ran in.

Jake nodded, "Fine, I'm on it! You won't regret it," he said raising his assault rifle and charging after the soldiers.

Nicholai watched as the young career criminal ran down the street and towards the site of battle. When the man was out of sight, his smirk turned into an insane grin and his cold blue eyes flickered with madness, "Yes, run away to your death you foolish American pig! You truly are pathetic if you think you can take down a bunch of zombies with your limited amount of skills. Oh well, soon enough it will be one less problem out of the way, they will all be within due time and then I can complete my mission and be gone from this godforsaken shithole," the man thought to himself.

Officially the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasures Service had been sent into Raccoon City on a rescue mission, but in reality, they were being used as nothing more than guinea pigs for collecting combat data against the company's B.O.W.'s in battle and Nicholai was one of the supervisors appointed to oversee this operation. Each man was to be paid handsomely for the data they collected, but the hardened veteran had other ideas in mind and wanted to steal all of the combat data for himself and double the reward that would be awaiting him at the end of this operation.

So far he had already killed three fellow supervisors. Exactly one hour ago he had run into Jafar Hussan, who was trapped in a back alley trying to escape from a group of zombies, but the heartless veteran pushed his fellow supervisor back into the crowd of zombies and watched in delight as the ravenous beasts bit into the man and systematically tore him apart. The thought of that incident nearly made him cackle aloud in pure madness.

Next he would happen across Jens Adelmann, who was knelt over the corpse of a fallen comrade desperately trying to revive him when Nicholai had snuck up behind him and quickly slashed the man's throat, leaving him to drown in a pool of his own blood. He stood over the fallen man pleased with his work and made sure to look at the image long and hard so it would be forever engraved in his memory.

The supervisor's final victim was Demitri Petrov, whom he had happened across in a small outdoor rest area locked in a desperate struggle with a Hunter Beta and was already on the losing end as he fired everything he had at the creature, who had already managed to get a clean strike on the man with a long slash across his chest. He falsely gained the man's trust by killing the creature with several shots to the chest, which had disappointed him because he considered the Hunter to be one of Umbrella's finer works and expected a tougher fight from the creature. He then realized that he had only one bullet left in his current clip and then turned his attention to Demitri, who was reaching out for help. He laughed in the man's face and fired a shot into his chest.

The thought of his last victim brought a smile to Nicholai's face and he let out a small chuckle as he thought about the man lying on the ground jerking and convulsing. The look of agony on the dying man's face was truly beautiful to him, a grotesque masterpiece. He wished he would have had more bullets so he could shoot the man's kneecaps out and watch him struggle before he ended his suffering forever.

"Today could be a very good day for me after all..." he thought to himself. He had killed the three men and taken all of their data, which had already contained several recorded battles against Hunters, Lickers, and Cerberus scattered all over the city, probably several thousand dollars worth right now. Now he just had to locate and eliminate the last few supervisors and then he would soon be a very wealthy man relaxing on a sunny beach in Tahiti with a margarita in hand watching the beautiful ocean surrounding him.

The feeling of being able to control the fates of those around him was overwhelming. He felt very warm and powerful, like nothing could stand in his way. He would soon hold all of the cards and anybody who stood in his way would never live to tell the tale.

Gunshots rang out from above and he looked up to see Giles on a nearby rooftop firing into the distant crowd of zombies providing backup for his teammates and behind him was an electric generator providing power to the building he was perched on.

Nicholai smiled ghastly aiming for the generator and pulled the trigger.

KA-BOOM!

The generator exploded behind the tactical sniper and sent him flying into the streets below landing with an audible crack. The man laid still on the ground for several seconds before he began to stir and moaned heavily as pain shot throughout his body. The sight of the man's agony brought joy to the demented supervisor and he walked over to check on the broken man.

"N...Ni...Nicholai...w...what...just...hap...penned...here?" the man groaned as he tried to move his legs, but couldn't as they had both been broken in his fall.

"Well, let's just say you had a little "accident" up on the roof," he spoke in his thick accent and then trained his gun on the fallen man's face as the sparkle of insanity returned to his eyes.

"What...are...you...doing?" the man rasped, his eyes growing wide as saucers as he focused on the man's gun.

"Just doing my job, soldier," he replied in a callous tone, "Weaklings like you do not deserve to exist. You only get in the way of greater things with your stupidity and insolence. I am simply doing you a favor nobody else could do for you."

Giles stared at him in disbelief, horrified as he saw his life flash before his eyes and fade into blackness. He could only pass out from shock as he eyed the sergeant standing above him with rifle trained on his forehead.

Nicholai giggled as he pulled the trigger and sprayed the concrete with the man's brain matter. His giggle grew into an evil roar of laughter as he looked down at his latest victim and kicked the man's corpse repeatedly as a final insult.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Schneider, cover me god dammit!" Daggett shouted as he sprayed several approaching zombies with hot lead from his heavy machine gun, but didn't have the time to fire upon the creatures attacking him from both sides.

"Don't worry...These fuckers are mine!" Schneider replied as he fired round after round into the creatures that had threatened to overwhelm his teammate from the side, giving the larger man some much needed break time to reload his machine gun. The zombies still pressed forward and soon the field scout would need the time himself to be covered as he would have to stop and reload his M4A1.

"Fire in the hole!" another voice called out and the two soldiers turned to see Tyrell unclipping a grenade from his vest and removing the pin.

"You heard the man!" Daggett shouted and the two soldiers dove out of the way as the demolitions specialist tossed the grenade into the middle of a large gathering of walking dead and seconds later several charred limbs were flung through the air. It was a small victory though as a few of the zombies remained and still pressed forward towards the soldiers.

"We got these losers!" Carlos shouted as him and Murphy appeared side by side with rifles blazing taking down the last of the zombies that stood before them in mere seconds.

"Is that the last of these freaks?" Murphy asked aloud as he studied the fallen corpses that laid before them with an itchy trigger finger, anticipating them to rise up again and try to devour them. He was especially nervous after witnessing zombies be able to withstand entire clips from their high-powered assault rifles and wasn't taking his chances. He would have walked up to the bodies to nudge them with his boot, but he had scene plenty of horror movies in the past where as soon as somebody would check to see if the monster was dead, the creature would suddenly spring back to life and tear the person a new one.

"Wait a minute, don't you guys recognize something?" Tyrell asked as everybody turned their attention to him.

"What?" Murphy blurted out pointing his rifle in every direction hoping that there were not more zombies approaching.

"It's Giles...He didn't help pick off any of those zombies that were coming at us from a distance. Either he turned and ran on us, or those "things" got him..." the man said in a very dreadful tone.

Schneider quickly grabbed his radio, "Giles! Giles are you there!" he yelled into it only to hear a dull static on the other end, "Giles, are you there? Answer me dammit!"

"Giles is dead," Nicholai's icy voice cut in, "Some of those zombies got the jump on him and a generator blew up behind him and flung him to the ground below. He died upon impact. I'm sorry," he cut out.

"Dammit! Those fucking zombies!" Schneider roared nearly tossing his radio to the concrete, "Giles was a good man and he didn't deserve that shit!" the man shouted kicking an overturned trashcan into a nearby wrecked car until he felt a hand upon his shoulder.

"You're right, nobody deserves to die like this, amigo" Carlos said patting the man on the shoulder, "But you have to pull yourself together essa, or else you'll wind up dead too."

Schneider glared at his counterpart, but knew that he was right. If he lost his cool he would certainly wind up dead as his teammate just had. He had always been a quick tempered individual and it had cost him much in the past as well and he didn't want to lose his own life right now because there had been so much he wanted to do after he got out of here, and one of them was get out of this line of work after he completed this mission, if he lived long enough to.

A hideous screech sounded from above and the U.B.C.S. soldiers looked up to find another one of those ape-like reptilian creatures called "Hunters" perched on a fire escape above them, its eyes blazing brighter than the fires of Hell and claws glimmering in wicked anticipation as it looked down upon the tasty morsels that stood beneath it.

"Shit, it's another one of those mutant lizard things!" Daggett cried firing in the beast's direction. By now many of the surviving Hunters had learned of the threats posed by firearms and this one knew instinctively to dive out of the way as the bullets slapped against the brick wall the creature moved in front of.

"This thing's too damn fast!" Murphy shouted as he fired at the creature, but the beast was too fast and moved with cat-like athleticism. The Hunter landed on the roof of a kiosk and then backflipped onto a wrecked minivan before its sights zoned in on Carlos and using its powerful legs, sprung into the air with the quickness of a kangaroo with claws extended.

TATTATTATTATTATAT!

The cracking of an assault rifle filled the air and the Hunter found itself knocked off course and flew into the wall of fire that still burned from Mikhail's rocket attack, its hideous shrieks filling the air as it quickly burned to death.

The mercenaries turned to see Jake standing proud with smoking assault rifle in hand, "Figured you guys could use some backup. Too bad Sgt. Asshole back there didn't feel the same way."

More bone-rattling screeches were heard and the mercs turned to find that more Hunters had arrived on the scene and were ready to attack.

"And trouble never fails to follow me wherever I go," Jake sighed as he took cover behind a wrecked jeep and fired a burst into the chest of an airborne Hunter and sent it crashing through the boarded up window of the nearby apartment complex. The adrenaline flowed through the man's veins as he waited for the next beast to try taking a swipe at him. The heat of battle was now in full swing for the young career criminal as it had been plenty of times before and he almost seemed to become superhuman in a sense when his adrenaline pumped through the roof. Raising his rifle again, he fired a round that caught another creature in one of its burning eyes and sent it crumbling to the ground like an avalanche. A third Hunter stood ready for an attack, but Jake had proven to be the quicker of the two when he quickly fired a burst that caught the creature in the face, killing it instantly. He then looked over to Tyrell and saw that another reptilian monstrosity was about to sneak up on him while he fired away at some monster in front of him.

"Tyrell get down!" he cried.

The U.B.C.S. merc didn't even bother to turn around and face his would-be attacker, instead he blindly trusted the order of a shady civilian he barely knew and dove for the ground with his hands placed protectively over his head. A second later he heard the crack of the man's assault rifle followed by the dying cry of the creature above him. He held onto his glasses and looked over to see the creature lying next to him with several gushing holes in its face and then turned to see the man standing tall in his flowing black trenchcoat with rifle in hand, looking like a badass warrior from some futuristic action flick.

"Wow...Thanks man..." the merc said to the man perplexed at how well he managed to handle himself for being an ordinary civilian.

"Don't be thanking me just yet, this party is just getting started," the man named Jake spoke in a flat, grim tone.

"Where the fuck did all of these freaks come from?" Schneider asked as he fired at a Hunter that had nearly taken his head off just seconds before.

"Beats the living fuck outta me!" Daggett replied, "You should be focusing more on killing these ugly shits than asking where the fuck they come from!" The big man was intent on killing all of the creatures that stood before him and laughed out loud as he finally managed to drop one with a shot that nearly decapitated it.

By now Mikhail had joined his fellow troops down on the street and was firing everything he had at the abominations.that stood before him, "Kill dem all!" he shouted in his thick Russian accent as he dropped one of the Hunters and then wounded another who hopped away shrieking in pain, "Don't come any closer you bastards!" He was practically on fire as the desire to protect his men and the rage he harbored against these genetically engineered freaks burned within him. This was probably the greatest surge of energy he had ever felt in the heat of battle as creature after creature fell before his mighty assault. The proud veteran had displayed his aggression plenty of times before on the battlefield, but this time was different, truly a rare sign from a man who had a reputation as being a gentle soul outside the field.

A shriek sounded from above as the soldier looked up to see a Hunter descending upon him swinging its claws in a blind rage. "Go to Hell!" the man shouted as he raised the rifle upwards and fired several rounds into the creature's chest sending it to the ground with a wet splat.

More shrieks were heard and the rugged lieutenant turned to see three more Hunters surrounding him all ready to avenge their fallen brother.

"Get away!" he cried firing at the nearest Hunter perched on a dumpster. The creature quickly leapt out of the way and by then the soldier had spent his current clip and quickly ejected it, but by that time the infernal beast had seen its opening and dove at the man.

BLAM!

The Hunter's head exploded into nothing as Mikhail stood there with an S&W M629C Magnum drawn feeling his heart wanting to leap out of his chest as he stared down at what laid before him and then moved his head back and forth looking at the remaining Hunters that darted through the air above him. The second Hunter stopped jumping around and finally decided it would try and take a swing at him.

"No you don't!" Mikhail cried as he raised the powerful handgun and fired all of his remaining rounds into the oncoming creature until it collapsed at his feet barely held together after receiving powerful shots all over its body. He then ran up to the creature and buried his knee into the back of its skull to make sure it was really dead. The man had no time to celebrate as the last Hunter appeared behind him ready to strike.

Mikhail whirled around to find the creature looking up to him with its eyes burning so brightly they nearly blinded him and drool seeping out from behind its hideous smile. The lieutenant was more unnerved as he had to listen to the beast's claws clicking on the concrete, sounding as if they were the ticking of a clock that was counting down his final moments.

"Shit!" the man cursed to himself as he reached into his pocket for another speed loader, but at the same time the creature let out its trademark shriek and made the charge, forcing the man to fall backwards and drop his ammo to the ground nearby. Before he could even think about grabbing the all important bullets, the creature brought its claws up to swipe at the Russian, but he managed to summon up enough speed to roll out of the way just in time as they struck the concrete where he once laid.

"Dammit," he grunted as he literally dove for the speed loader, but every time he leapt towards it, it would always roll inches further away from him, "Come on dammit!" but another shriek was heard and soon the Hunter stood over him ready to inflict the killing blow.

TATTATTATTATTATTATTAT!

Another cry was heard from the beast, but this one was in a more painful tone and Mikhail rolled over to see the creature standing still above him only to fall to the ground a second later. Standing off in the distance were Tyrell and Jake, both looking down upon the lieutenant and the creature they had just double-teamed and then the demolitions specialist ran over to help his fellow soldier back to his feet, "Are you all right, Lieutenant?"

"I'm fine," Mikhail spoke and then turned to face Jake, "Thank you comrade, that was some great shooting back there. For a civilian, your combat skills were superb."

"Yeah man, where did you learn to shoot like that?" Tyrell cut in, "You took those freaks down like a pro!"

Jake took a few seconds before he spoke, "My father was a Marine. He taught me how to shoot many different kinds of firearms. I've won a lot of shooting competitions thanks to what he taught me."

Jake was telling the truth with his answer. His father was a Marine who served three tours of duty in the Vietnam War and had received several medals for his service. Many people close to him believed that the horrors he had witnessed on the battlefield had forever traumatized him and drove him to take up drinking as a way of dulling the pain. Unfortunately though, he would create even more pain for his own family back home when he would come home drunk and beat his wife and children mercilessly. When he wasn't busy beating his kids, probably the only positive thing he had ever done for Jake was teach him survival skills, including how to fire several different kinds of firearms, especially the very M-16 assault rifle he had used while fighting in the steamy jungles of Vietnam that had saved his life on countless occasions. The marksmanship skills he had learned under his father had served him well in the countless skirmishes he had been involved in during past confrontations with rival gangs and they had even earned him some money when he managed to win several Ammu-Nation shooting contests thanks to his superior aim and reflexes. Now, his skills had saved his life numerous times in his battles he had gone through with the living dead and other monstrosities created by Umbrella.

"Come on, there are more of these monsters running around. We must help our teammates," Mikhail ordered after reloading both of his guns.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A smile spread across Nicholai's face as he observed his men in combat. He was hidden in the shadows with his laptop out and had a webcam that recorded the battle taking place at the moment. From what he saw, the men were handling themselves pretty well against the Hunter Betas attacking them and made a note of the creature's weakness to headshots, a common problem with all of Umbrella's B.O.W.'s.

"Perhaps these men weren't as weak as I believed them to be," he chuckled to himself as he typed in several small notes of his observations. This had indeed been one of the more interesting battles he had come across, but what really seemed to interest him the most about this particular skirmish was that civilian, Jake Smith, whom his unit had happened across a few blocks back. He saw that the man seemed to handle himself pretty well for being a "lowly civilian," and yet it made him think about the man's identity. Typing away at his laptop he made sure to make special notes of the man and his excellent combat skills.

"It seems that I have underestimated our American friend, have I not? He claims to be a "civilian" trapped in this town on a vacation gone awry, but yet he fights with the skill and tenacity of a hardened soldier much like myself. An ordinary civilian would just get in my way and have to be terminated immediately, but yet this man...He handles a high-performance assault rifle with the efficiency of someone who has undergone basic training and operates with the strategy of a brilliant military leader, but not on the level of a Napoleon or Alexander the Great. It seems a certain somebody must be lying about his true identity, a wolf in sheep's clothing if you may call him that," the sergeant thought to himself. 

He then pulled out his digital camera and zoomed in on the mysterious man named Jake, who was in the middle of a conversation with Tyrell Patrick and Lt. Mikhail Victor. "Smile for the camera you fool!" he said aloud as he snapped a picture of Jake and then uploaded it into his laptop. With the image uploaded he e-mailed it to his superiors and added a message telling them to search all national criminal databases for any information regarding "Jake's" identity.

"I know you are lying to me, I can sense it in your movement. But now I have your data recorded and within due time, we will learn who you really are, "Mr. Smith." " the mad sergeant chuckled as he continued to observe the battle below and then placed a hand over a pouch where he kept a silencer attachment for his Sigpro SP2009 sidearm, "It shouldn't matter much anyway, comrade. You, along with the others will soon die anyway."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Jeez, how many of these freaks are left?" Carlos shouted as he fired upon the creatures alongside Murphy and Schneider. Daggett stood not too far away causing two of the beasts to scatter to opposite directions, who were then picked off by potshots from Jake and Mikhail. Tyrell stood nearby them now firing upon the creatures with his handgun after his assault rifle was beginning to run dangerously low on ammo.

"Oh...Oh god!" Tyrell cried as an ear-piercing squeal sounded off next to him and one of the Hunters landed less that a few inches to his right, close enough for the mercenary to see the creature's fiery red eyes burning a hole right through his skull and feel the creature's putrid breath wash over him like a tidal wave breaking down a weakened dam. He clenched his eyes shut and waited for the beast to bite his head off, but suddenly shots rang out and the demolitions specialist was showered with blood and bone fragments.

He spun around to find Jake standing there having fired a point blank shot into the creature's head. That was the second time tonight the mysterious civilian had saved his bacon and he silently thanked the man as he took cover and slapped a fresh clip into his handgun.

Mikhail stood near Jake firing upon the creatures with his powerful magnum. He decided to focus on using his assault rifle for later as the magnum could inflict instant kills against these beasts as he had already dropped threat additional critters with rounds to the skull from this gun and quickly slapped in another speed loader as he anticipated his next kill.

Carlos, Murphy, and Schneider now had their backs to each other with Daggett flanking their rear as they fired at the creatures from all directions. Carlos managed to spot the Hydro Clean laundromat through all of the smoke and tried to move towards it, "Guys, come on! The laundromat is over there!" Unfortunately, his teammates couldn't hear him as the gunfire and shrieks muted his cry. Suddenly, a gunshot rang out from above that caught everybody's attention.

The mercs looked up to see the muzzle of a rifle sticking through a broken window and firing potshots at the Hunters that flew through the air around them. Another rifle muzzle then popped out from the window across and fired shot after shot at the creatures managing to drop one and severely wound another.

"It's them!" Mikhail shouted and then ordered the men to move closer to the laundromat front door, the door's aluminum shutter had been largely damaged by the rocket blast and now they would be able to get through.

"Quickly, get inside now!" the lieutenant ordered, but was cut off as a shadow enveloped his figure. He turned to find another creature positioned on a wrecked delivery truck that had smashed into the small appliance shop next door to the laundromat. Before he could fire more shots rang out and the creature fell to the ground in a bloody heap.

The soldiers turned to find Nicholai standing before them lowering his assault rifle, "Sorry I'm late. I got attacked by zombies after I found Giles' corpse," he spoke in his usual icy monotone.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"It's about bloody fuckin' time ya' blokes decided to show up," Bader greeted in the same impatient tone he spoke in over the radio, "While ya' chaps stopped for tea time, Delacroix an' I were stuck here with our backs against the wall pissin' away half our ammo on those sodding wankers outside, stuff we could've used on those scaly bastards tryin' to cut ya' all new ones outside!"

"Heh, and I'm happy to see you too ol' chap," Schneider muttered as he moved aside for the other survivors to enter the room. Nicholai led the way into the room followed closely by Jake and the other U.B.C.S. survivors, except for Daggett who had been ordered to guard the front door in case any more creatures decided to drop by for another visit.

"Privates Bader, Delacroix, what do you have to report?" Nicholai asked stepping up to address the two men.

"It is pretty bleak Sgt. Ginovaef," Delacroix spoke up, "We vere dropped off on ze eastern part of town when we vere attacked by zose walking cadavers. Zey killed most of our men. Bader, myself, Steinburg, and Hartley made it zere and found zome civilians being chased by zose monsters. Zome of zem had been bitten when we found zem. Steinburg tried to treat zem, but zey attacked him and soon he began acting like zem and killed Hartley, Bader here was forced to shoot him dead," the Frenchman recited as his vision lowered towards the floor, struggling to explain everything he and his teammate had just been through in the past few hours.

"Damn," Nicholai spat, "Any word from any other survivors in our unit?"

"We tried getting through to them, but the radios are workin' like a bloody clusterfuck around here and all we've gotten is either static or the dying cries of our teammates, aside from our transmission to you and your men," Bader reported, "Trying to get back to home base is certainly a no go, hell even tryin' to get through to the cozzers 'round here is a waste of time!"

"Dammit, now we'll never get any backup!" the sergeant cursed and then looked towards Mikhail, "Any other ideas, Lieutenant?"

The lieutenant nodded, "According to our tactical map, we shouldn't be too far away from the police station," he said pulling out the tactical map and then motioned for all of the soldiers to gather around as Jake stood in the corner of the room near one of the windows looking down at the crater that had been left in the street as a result of Mikhail's rocket blast and the shot up corpses of the reptilian creatures that had attacked them out on the streets just minutes before. He stared at the beasts with great interest and puzzlement as he pondered how these creatures could have been created by Umbrella and if they were ever human at one point or another. These researchers at Umbrella were sicker than any crime boss he had ever worked for or any rival gang he had ever gone up against and he could probably understand why this mysterious benefactor of his had malice towards the company. Then again, he had to give some researchers the benefit of the doubt knowing that some of them were probably just ordinary people who had been conned into believing that they would be working on cures for major diseases, when in fact they were unwittingly assisting in the creation of deadly viruses being used for biological warfare, a method he knew firsthand. Some of the criminals he had worked for in the past were big businessmen who used their businesses as fronts for their criminal activities. As a hired gun he knew many of the inner workings of these businesses, but at the same time there were also many ordinary citizens who worked for these men and women who were completely oblivious of their boss' illegal activities and would end up getting caught in the crossfire when a rival organization decided to seek revenge.

Although he was a career criminal, Jake wasn't as selfish as some people would make him out to be and looking back on it he actually felt some anger towards those former employers for placing innocents in harm's way like they did, he even almost felt sorry for these mercs he was with right now for having to work for the company that has knowingly thrown them to the wolves just because they fucked things up and needed to keep their mess hush-hush from the general public. The thought of this made him want to take out William Birkin even more as he looked down at the assault rifle that he held in his gloved hands. He didn't care how many Umbrella buffoons he would have to go through to get at his target.

The soldiers behind Jake suddenly jumped halfway to the ceiling as Daggett fired a short burst from his M-60. After the gunshots ceased, some of the soldiers moved over towards the window where the young man stood when the pitiful, lost wailing groans from outside began to filter in.

"Lt. Victor, Sgt. Ginovaef! We'd better get moving," the gunner shouted with urgency firing another short burst outside, "I think those freaks have sniffed us out, there's gotta be between thirty and forty of those rotting bastards closing in on us from every stinking direction!"

"C'mon, I think I saw a backdoor to this place downstairs!" Bader said, surprised at how calm he kept his voice, already feeling the flow of adrenaline renewed within his system.

Jake looked out through the cracked window to see that Daggett's report was correct as another wave of bloodthirsty zombies marching towards the laundromat. He turned around to see Delacroix grabbing the medical kit that had been left on the desk's swivel chair, but failing to grab the M-249 S.A.W. that had been left on the desk. Without asking, he quickly holstered his assault rifle and grabbed the large heavy machine gun and made the charge downstairs, where most of the soldiers had already escaped into a back alley and Daggett guarded the rear entrance ready to fire upon any zombies about to walk through the front door. As soon as he ran in front of the doorway, he heard the shuffling, drunken footsteps and turned to see that one of the zombies had already walked in through the warped door.

"Get out of here, Jake!" Daggett ordered, training his M-60 on the doorway. He raced out the back door as the heavy machine gunner fired one last burst and then turned and followed him outside, "Help me out with this damn door first!"

The career criminal skidded to a halt and saw that the machine gunner had already shut the door and was trying to push a large dumpster in the way. He nodded and then ran over to the merc and used the handles on the other side of the large metal dumpster to help pull it in front of the door. A large thud sounded from behind the door as one of the zombies had apparently walked right into the blocked exit and was followed by fists pounding against the metal door.

"Come on," the merc ordered and Jake quickly scooped up his newly-acquired S.A.W. and followed close behind.

The other mercenaries ran quickly ahead anxious to get out of this alley and to a safer location.

Schneider ran at the front of the pack and came to another locked gate. "Stand back!" he ordered raising his rifle and firing a shot to break off the padlock and then kicked the gate wide open and walked through.

"How does it look?" Mikhail asked with assault rifle raised.

"It's looks all clear so-" was as far as the young mercenary got before a dark blur flew across the alley and back into the shadows. An audible slicing sound was heard as the creature's talons cut through the air and the young man stood still.

"Holy shit!" Murphy murmured, eyes wide as saucers. He was petrified upon hearing the slicing sound and hoped against the worst.

"Schneider! What happened? Are you all right?" Mikhail called out as he watched his fellow merc stand there silent.

A red line suddenly materialized across the young soldier's neck and blood began to leak down his vest. With a sickening snap, his head slid to one side and then fell quietly to the pavement. A moment later the rest of his body fell down beside it.

"Shit!" Murphy shrieked as he saw the creature's red eyes in the darkness and began firing in their direction. Tyrell joined him firing his pistol at the demonic eyes while the others stood around ready for the creature to make its next move. A bone-rattling shriek filled the air and the Hunter leapt from the shadows with claws raised.

"Eat this you murdering puta!" Carlos shouted firing upwards at the creature. The inhuman monster seemingly floated in slow motion, enough for the merc to empty half of his clip into the creature, including several crucial shots to the face. It was dead before it hit the ground.

"Move!" Mikhail shouted as he charged through the gate firing blindly at any possible creatures that could be lingering about in the darkness. The other soldiers ran after him, except for Carlos, who would stop to relieve his dead comrade of his remaining ammunition before moving on.

"Let's move! Go! Go! Go!" Mikhail shouted as he led the charge through the darkened alleyway until another one of the reptilian creatures appeared before him. "Never!" he cried firing a burst into the creature's face and sent it flying backwards dead.

Another Hunter appeared right behind Jake, who quickly spun around with his S.A.W. drawn and let loose upon the creature, "You wanna slash somebody into sashimi, pick on someone else!" He heard the clanking of another metal gate ahead signaling that someone had escaped from the alley and he ran after the shadows ahead of him.

This was all very amusing to Nicholai as he watched his subordinates fighting for their worthless lives against the marvels that had been created by the company. He felt no sorrow when Daryl Schneider was decapitated by that Hunter back there, for he was nothing more than a glorified expendable test subject who had run his course and was dealt with accordingly. The same would soon be said of all the other men who ran around with him, but right now he had to pretend that he cared to avoid raising suspicions, especially with his men on the edge, they would probably turn their guns on each other if they even looked at each other the wrong way. It didn't bother him much though as he would soon eliminate them one by one, that is if the experiments didn't do the job for him first.

"Bader, zis way!" Jacques Delacroix shouted to his British counterpart as he led the way into an adjoining alley, but was quickly stopped dead after stumbling across another undead feast as two Dobermans tore into the corpse of a postal worker. Before he could raise his rifle to fire though, a third zombified dog jumped him from behind and tackled him to the concrete, "Help me!"

"Jacques!" Bader cried, but it was too late. As he fired into the rabid dog that had tackled his teammate to the concrete, another quickly followed up and bit into the man's shoulder and began tearing away until it was knocked backwards by a shot from the British merc.

"Delacroix! Oh shit!" Murphy blurted out as him and Carlos arrived on the scene, "We got these mangy mutts!" the American merc shouted as him and Carlos opened fire on the mutated dogs, making quick work of all of them.

"Ahhhh! Help me!" the Frenchman screamed as he reached over and clamped his hand tightly over the wounds that had been inflicted upon him by the undead Doberman.

"Hold freakin' still will ya'?" Bader grunted as he tried to hold the man down.

"No! Don't touch me!" Jacques protested as he swung his fist at his teammate, only striking air. He writhed on the ground as the pain shot from his shoulder to all over his upper torso and had his legs twitching. The dog had torn most of the skin from his shoulder and had managed to separate it as well and he was losing blood fast. The whole world blurred around him as he could barely make out the facial features of Bader and the others despite the fact that they hovered right over him.

"What's going on here?" Mikhail asked as him and Nicholai arrived and found their men gathered around a fallen soldier. He quickly pushed past his men and knelt down beside the wounded Delacroix, "What happened here?"

"It's not good, L.T. Some damned flea bitten mongrels decided to turn the poor lad into the world's largest milkbone. I tried to shoot them off, but the damned bitches took a good bite out of him," the Brit spoke with his head lowered.

Mikhail cursed silently to himself. He remembered how several of his teammates had been bitten by infected townspeople and had begun acting savagely afterwards and had to be shot dead or else they would spread the disease onto others. He knew firsthand after he had already been forced to execute one of his own men, who had been bitten and about an hour afterwards attacked and killed a local woman they found hiding in her bathroom. He did not want to be forced to do this again, but telling his men that one of their teammates was infected with a deadly virus and could turn into a zombie and attack them at any time was not an option either. He knew of the potential danger posed by his fallen subordinate and the only other thing he could really do was get his men as far away as possible.

"All right, Nicholai, you and Bader try to see what you can do, the others and I will scout ahead," Mikhail said looking towards the others. The others looked at him with a feeling of understanding, knowing what could possibly happen if he was bitten by one of those infected creatures and wanted to get away from there. They just hoped Bader and Nicholai were smart enough to know what to do. On the lieutenant's signal they made their move.

Gavin Bader nodded to Nicholai and then reached for the medical kit that Jacques had grabbed on the way out, "Frankly, after all the B.S. that's been goin' on 'round here, I dunno if we can save him, but we at least gotta try," he said and then reached for some antiseptic to apply to the man's wounds. He then quickly reached for some morphine and some bandages.

"Yes comrade, there is much that must be done for your friend and so much that you could do to help him out," the Russian spoke. At the same time he spoke, he quickly reached into his compartment that held his silencer and screwed it onto his Sigpro handgun, "It's just a shame that you won't be living too much longer to help him out."

The British merc was stung by his superior's words, "Huh? Just what in the bloody hell are you trying to say?" he asked as he rose back to his feet to face his commanding officer ready for a fight, but instead turned around to find the barrel of a pistol stuck in his face.

Nicholai said nothing as he fired twice into the man's face. He watched impassively as the man fell backwards to the concrete, a look of disbelief crossing his features as his eyes opened wide as saucers and his mouth opened as if to speak, but nothing came out. The man was dead before he hit the ground with a heavy thud, falling just inches away from his injured comrade.

Jacques Delacroix laid on the hard, unforgiving concrete slipping in and out of consciousness. He was starting to burn up after being bitten by that rabid Doberman and began whimpering as he felt the pain move up and down his right arm and tried desperately to lift his other arm to scratch it, but was too weak to do so. Right now he was itching all over and it was driving him insane. He also tried opening his eyes, but all he could see were bright lights floating around above him and a bunch of mysterious inanimate objects that seemingly floated around as if he were in a drug-induced stupor. Not only that, but he started to feel really hungry and knew he would have to eat soon. Question was, how would he get up to eat when he could barely move? He had to do something. 

Suddenly, he heard a loud thud near him and tried to turn over and see what it was, but he was too weak to do so. Next thing he knew, he saw a dark form hovering above him and strained his ears to hear until the form spoke in a voice that he recognized as Nicholai's, "One problem has already been taken care of, now onto the next," followed by the man's boots tapping against the concrete.

By now, the Frenchman was terrified and tried everything in his power to move, but for some reason fate would let him regain his focus for one last time, only to find Nicholai Ginovaef standing over him with his pistol trained on him, silencer attached. "Jacques Delacroix, you always were a weakling, do you know that? I always suspected since the beginning of this mission that you would be one of the first to fall, but I was wrong. You proved me wrong and in the process humbled me greatly, for that I tip my hat to you, for that I must also eliminate you," he said cocking his gun

The French merc opened his mouth to scream, but couldn't. "Heh, no use in trying to call out for help, you're already dead anyway!" With those last words, the supervisor fired a single shot into the younger man's head, killing him instantly.

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"Some brilliant idea you had, Victor," Jake thought to himself. The career criminal and the five other U.B.C.S. mercenaries exited the alley, only to make their way onto another street populated with zombies. Immediately the six men opened fire on their surrounding attackers.

The combat became a blur to Jake as he was surrounded by zombies and began to cut his way through with the mighty S.A.W., literally sending the walking cadavers through a blender as their rotting bodies were torn apart by the high velocity rounds. He was nearly blinded by the flash of the minigun, but was still able to make out the images of dead bodies falling all around him and the adrenaline he felt in his body was too much for him to just slow down and take in his surroundings. All of this continued until he ran out of ammo.

"Fuck!" the career criminal cursed as he was suddenly brought back to reality and tossed the empty S.A.W. to the ground. Several zombies that had not been cut down by his barrage resumed their pursuit. Feeling he still had another grenade left, Jake quickly snatched it and tossed it into the approaching group, sending more body parts flying all over the place. More machine gun fire was heard and he turned to see Daggett appear with M-60 blazing.

"Jake, I can't find the others! Do you think they left us?" the bigger man asked firing another wave at the creatures.

"I don't know!" Jake replied taking down another zombie with his rifle. He looked over to see that the merc was baking himself into an alleyway.

"Follow me!" the man ordered disappearing around the corner.

Jake backed himself towards the alley never taking his eyes off the zombies for too long a period. He tried to look beyond the zombies, but the four others were nowhere in sight. All he could do now was continue moving about, if he couldn't catch up with Daggett then the man was on his own. He cursed silently to himself as his latest clip ran dry and he decided he would focus on the monsters later. He saw the gate and spotted the padlock and made his way through, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him. He backed off for a few minutes and strangely none of the creatures pressed against hoping to get through to him. Gunfire was heard in the distance, but right now it was too late and he would have to worry about those men some other time.

"Sgt. Ginovaef..." Daggett called out, followed by the sound of something hitting the ground.

"What the hell?" Jake said aloud, "Daggett and Nicholai?" He realized that the two men must be back there and quickly ran to join them. The criminal wasn't particularly interested in either man's health, but was still interested in seeing what was going on. He turned the alley and would find himself in for a shocker.

Around the corner, there was Nicholai standing tall over Daggett firing a final shot into the man's skull before turning to face Jake, "Well, look who's decided to join the party!" the man laughed raising his gun and opening fire.

The next few seconds would pass like an eternity in the mind of Jake Cavanaugh.

The air was immediately knocked out of the young career criminal's lungs as four bullets struck him in the chest. Everything seemed longer than it actually was when the four rounds slapped against him and he weightlessly floated backwards, time coming back to normal speed as his head struck the hard pavement.

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The sight was amusing to Nicholai Ginovaef as the young American fool flew backwards like a puppet with its strings cut, even more worthwhile was the sound of the man's body striking the concrete with a loud crack as the man's skull bounced off the pavement.

"Ha! Truly a pathetic weakling to the end," he scoffed as he looked down at the man and observed where the bullets had torn the fabric of his t-shirt, ruining the beautiful red dragon design that had adorned the front of an otherwise simple black t-shirt and then stood over the fallen man like he had done with Daggett just seconds before. The man was still alive, but barely clinging onto life and appeared to be on the verge of losing consciousness.

With a smile on his face, the cold, arrogant supervisor spoke, "Since the moment I first met you I thought of you as nothing more than dead weight. Nothing more than a hopeless, anti-authoritarian, too-big-for-his-britches hillbilly American scoundrel who truly thought you could make it out of this city alive. I must applaud your efforts Mr. Smith, you certainly had more than most of the other worthless civilians in this decrepit shithole and for a time you seriously surprised me. Then again, I am forced to remember that saving you, along with all of the other citizens of this community is not really my agenda. I look at you and all of the other men serving under me and I see nothing but dollar signs. My true purpose is to collect combat data from those guinea pigs and even though I must say that as a civilian, you were not meant to be part of this combat drill, but yet your combat skills were on par with the mercenaries, maybe even better. A fine soldier you would've made, comrade, but now you are dead, just like everybody else!"

"Fuck...You!" Jake hissed trying to reach out for the man, but eventually passed out from the pain and laid back like a crumbling statue.

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"Get away!" Murphy cried as he fired everything he had left in his assault rifle. He had already exhausted most of his ammo tonight and was down to his final clip, and without enough bullets to take out the current group of zombies that was attacking him. After that, he only had his Sigpro sidearm which was also dangerously low on ammo and his combat knife. He was out of additional supplies and his radio had been lost in an earlier scuffle. Not only that, he was now on his own as Daggett and that civilian Jake had been separated after they were overwhelmed by zombies and Tyrell had been forced to retreat for higher ground after being chased into a small office building and now Carlos and Mikhail were nowhere to be found. Nicholai had volunteered to stay behind with Bader and look after Delacroix, but now chances were very high that the latter had probably transformed on them and killed them both.

"Just my luck," he thought as he fired at the zombies before him. All of the stress he had been going through at the moment made him forget that he had to aim for their heads in order to put them down for good and the mounting desperation made it seem as if hundreds were closing in on him when in reality he was fighting off six of them at once, still a great threat.

Right now the merc could only anticipate that his end was near and he wouldn't be leaving this city alive. He knew his fight was hopeless, but at the same time he did not have any other choice. His train of thought was interrupted by the empty clicking of his assault rifle.

"Oh..." the man didn't have time to finish his sentence as a zombie grabbed hold of him and sunk its teeth into his shoulder. The man bellowed in anguish as the broken, decaying teeth sunk into his flesh. He knew he couldn't let the monster get away with this, but he had been weakened by the blood loss and reaching for his sidearm was impossible right now, but through all of the madness he suddenly remembered his combat knife he kept in his shoulder holster and quickly reached for it as he struggled to keep the man's head at bay.

With a sudden speed, he felt for his knife and gripped the handle letting out loud grunt before he drove the blade straight into the monster's temple repeatedly. He finally tossed the body off of him and then saw that there were still others and knew he had to get out of there.

Despite the initial stings he felt from where he had been bitten, the young merc managed to temporarily push those feelings aside and began jogging down the street, his muscles already protesting after having wasted most of his strength during the struggle with the zombie. He had to get out of there at once and find a safe haven to regroup.

At the same time Murphy Seeker ran for sanctuary, Carlos Oliveira, Tyrell Patrick, and Mikhail Victor were spread out not too far away from each other seeking their own form of sanctuary wherever they could find it. It would be a long, brutal struggle for all of them, one in which not many of them would come back from alive.

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Jake Cavanaugh's lifeless body laid in a back alley just inches away from the dead body of Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Services mercenary Hansen Daggett. The assault rifle he once possessed laid empty next to him, stripped of what remaining ammo it contained. Everything else he carried had been concealed by the trenchcoat he wore and was thus spared from being looted by the mad Umbrella supervisor who had gunned him down moments before. The man did not have time to search him thoroughly anyway as he was expecting an important transmission from headquarters and needed to find a safe place where he could receive his message from.

To the man who gunned him down, Jake was dead and right now he certainly looked the part, but fate would have other plans for the young career criminal.

The man's limp hand slowly clenched into a fist and a barely audible sigh escaped his lips followed by a grimaced smirk crossing his features. After some additional effort, the young man's eyes began to flutter open and shut.

Author's Note: I know yes it has been forever since I last updated this story, over a month to be exact. Unfortunately though, my computer decided to take another shit on me and I had to take it to Best Buy to get the problems taken care of again and I got ripped off ninety some odd bucks to do it. For like the second or third time, I had to have everything re-formatted, meaning I lost everything, including the starting portion I had written out for this chapter. Fortunately though, I was smart enough to write out all the ideas I had for this fic on paper, so I won't have to start over again from scratch when I work on future chapters. If I was able to afford to wipe my ass with one-hundred dollar bills, I would have followed Noctorro's advice a long time ago and smashed this modem to bits and gone out and bought and entirely new one. When I finally got my modem back, I started getting hit by ideas from a bunch of different directions, so that kind of impeded my progress with this fic. It didn't stop me though and I have soldiered on to bring you this latest installment of Darkness Arises. I apologize if some parts of this chapter may seem repetitive, that's because I had to crank out all these ideas before I went to bed or else I would go insane if these ideas lingered on overnight. Once again, read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/ 


	14. Chapter 12: The Angel From The STARS

Darkness Arises by E-Z B

Author's Note: I wanted to open with some brief shoutouts to some of my reviewers on here:

GradyJMM - I promise you that in a few chapters you will see a flashback regarding something that happened to Jake in the past, I will clue you in that it might be sub-divided into more than one chapter because I have a lot of ideas for it and yes South Park does kick ass!

Paradox022 - To answer your inquiry about what you said in your recent review about how you find it unreal with Jake receiving shooting lessons from his dad and then going off and killing him, I guess that's inspired by real-life accounts I've heard. A couple years back, I heard about some kids from down south who were beaten constantly by their father and then they eventually had enough and shot him to death, I guess he taught them how to fire guns so that's probably where I got that idea from. By the way, say hi to Katie a.k.a. SmilesK a.k.a. Catalina for me, I haven't heard from her in quite a while and I have her added to my MSN buddy list, but haven't heard from her yet.

mEsSenGerofwho? - If Jake was working for Tommy at the time of the latter's death, I highly doubt he would receive the man's assets, they would probably be seized by the government.

Chapter 12: The Angel from the S.T.A.R.S.

"Hey! Are you all right?" a woman's voice called out.

A pitch black abyss was all Jake could see in front of him as he laid flat on his back. Those four bullets he had taken to the chest had knocked the wind out of him, but striking his head against the concrete had done the most damage and at the moment he felt no pain as he floated in the sea of nothingness, until he heard the sound of the woman's voice and then everything began to shake around him.

"Sir, are you all right? Please speak to me!" the same woman called out again.

The shaking suddenly stopped and was replaced by a bright light and then he felt the sharp stabs of pain all over and he cried out in agony, "Gah!"

"Oh no! You're hurt! Don't move!" the woman ordered.

In his twenty-four years of life, the young Jake Cavanaugh knew all too well what it was like to experience a hangover, but this was no hangover he was waking up from, this almost felt like an entire beating.

"What?" he cried as he felt a powerful pain in the back of his head shoot all the way down his spinal cord and then travel throughout the rest of his body. The pain had been crippling and he almost felt his throat collapse, his chest turn to ice, and his stomach being pulled in a bunch of different directions as all of his muscles tensed up simultaneously.

"No! Don't move!" the voice called out again and he didn't even feel his arm being held down by the unseen individual, all he could feel was the blood flowing through his head and the pain thundering throughout his skull. He felt as if he was trapped in a small chest and he needed to escape, he had to open his eyes. He knew doing so could have dire consequences, but he had no other choice.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he finally felt the less excruciating movement of his facial muscles and with another he slowly opened his eyes.

"You're waking up, can you see me?" the woman called out again.

Right now all Jake could see was a mass of colors of all different shades swimming around above him, most notably a light blue color contrasting against several shades of light brown and the peach color of a Caucasian person's skin. His senses assaulted, he immediately shut his eyes and began to blink them rapidly until things began to slowly piece together and the colors began to transform into noticeable shapes.

"Can you hear me?" the voice called out again.

Jake stared in the voice's direction and the faint outlines of a human being began to materialize. At the same time, he could feel a hand touching his right arm, a warm, human hand. The touch was that of a delicate, feminine essence that temporarily dulled the pain he felt in his arm. His mind suddenly reminded him that the person above him was waiting for an answer. Unable to speak, he replied with a heavy sigh giving away the pain he felt.

"Hold still, mister, I'm going to do for you what I can," the woman spoke, this time squeezing his hand. The sensation made him tighten his grip around the her hand.

"Who..." he finally spoke as he could feel his heart rate slowing down and some of his muscles relax. It was then that the woman's facial features began to appear to the young man and he was able to make out a pair of bright blue eyes staring down at him and a set of luscious pink lips followed by the rest of her features until she appeared as whole, "...Are...You?" he finished.

"I'm sorry, but we'll have to save the introductions for later. Right now I have to treat your wounds," she replied. She was a fairly attractive young woman who appeared to be in her early twenties with short, stylishly cut chestnut colored hair that seemed to go well with her fair complexion. Her outfit consisted of a light blue tube top and a black mini-skirt with a white sweater wrapped around her waist. He also noticed a pair of brown boots that came up to her knees and rolled his head off to the side to see an HK-P grenade launcher resting on the ground next to him that probably belonged to her.

"Ugh...Just do whatever you have to, lady!" Jake grunted, but then suddenly cried out in pain as he pressed his head back on the concrete. His head hurt like somebody had walloped him from behind with a baseball bat a million times over and whenever he felt a certain part of his head brush against the concrete it would shoot a pain down his spinal cord that would travel throughout his body. A sticky feeling on his scalp affirmed that he had been busted wide open and was probably lying in a small pool of blood right now.

"Okay, but stay still. You look like you've taken a pretty nasty bump on the back of your head and it looks like somebody shot you too," the woman spoke as she reached for a can of Umbrella manufactured first-aid spray and some bandages.

"This isn't the first major spill I've taken all night...Wouldn't make much difference anyway," Jake grunted with a tone of sarcasm as he felt a shirt being placed under his neck as a pillow.

"This is going to sting a little so you'll have to bear with me. I don't want to move you too far either, so I might not get much on," the mysterious woman instructed as she shook the can and placed her hand underneath his head.

The career criminal winced as he felt the substance being sprayed onto his scalp. The stuff burned and stung as it sunk in, but he would have to fight the urge to scratch or else his wounds would not heal. He also had to brace himself as the woman placed some cotton swabs on the back of his head and then wrapped a large sterile bandage around it.

"There, you're not exactly good as new, but it's the least I can do right now. I'm not trained in field medicine and the nearest hospital is halfway across town, although it's probably overrun already like everything else I have come across is so far, so we'll have to make due with what I got right now. I can get you some better help when we get out of here," she spoke as she knelt beside the man, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Heh...Thanks miss, you're a regular angel on the battlefield," he smirked, "But now if you'll excuse me," summoning up all of his strength with a mighty roar, Jake tried to force himself into a sitting position, only to let out an agonizing scream and fall backwards.

"What do you think you're doing?" the woman half-shouted as she caught the man, "Do you have some kind of death wish or something? You are in no position to be moving around right now," she scolded.

"Grrr...Lady I don't have much choice!" he shot back, "We have to get out of here before those rotting freaks sniff us out! I appreciate everything you've just done for me, but we're not going to get much farther if I have to lay here all night! Now help me up!" he ordered.

"But you've been shot!" she protested.

"Not quite," he managed to chuckle. Jake pulled up his t-shirt to reveal his Kevlar bulletproof vest underneath, "Some fucker tried to shoot me before you found me...I had this vest here to protect me, picked it up when everything started to go to shit around here. Now I know it was in my better judgment to take it," he said with an anguished smile, "Too bad the asshole had to ruin my favorite shirt."

"Wait a minute, who shot you?" the woman asked, "Is he nearby?" she spoke raising the grenade launcher ready to fire upon any unseen attackers.

"I'll tell you later, right now we have to get out of here. If you don't help me up, I'll just have to claw my way up," Jake ordered again and struggled to rise back into a sitting position.

"Okay, just take it nice and easy," she said as she positioned herself under Jake's right arm and then moved him over to a dumpster to brace himself against. With a mighty heave Jake was finally able to bring himself up to a knee and with his remaining strength managed to rise back to his feet and collapsed over the dumpster still supported by the woman.

"Thanks," he groaned as he now realized his head was not the only part of his anatomy that felt like it had been broken in half. His neck, back, shoulders, and right arm ached from his collision with the ground and his legs felt like jelly from his lightheadedness. He pressed against his chest where he had been shot a winced again. The vest had done its job in preventing the bullets from penetrating his flesh, but he still felt like he been struck by several bricks and would probably have some pretty nasty looking bruises underneath when he finally took it off.

"Can you move by yourself?" the woman asked as she still supported him from one side while he remained braced against the dumpster.

"Relax, I'll manage," he said gently pushing her away, "I may be in a lot of pain right now, but at least I'm still around to complain about it," he said shooting her a forced grin with one eye open and raising a shaky thumbs up.

At least he was still alive, that was all that meant anything to him. Despite the great deal of pain he was in, he was instantly hit by the memory of what that traitorous weasel Nicholai had done to him made it a personal objective to track the man down and exact a brutal, bloody revenge upon the slimy bastard for what he had done to him and the men who were under his command and entrusted their lives to him.

The woman looked at him hesitantly but then slowly nodded, "Fine...All right then, but first let me do something," she said raising the canister. She sprayed what remained of the first-aid substance all over Jake's body and then kept a close eye on him as he managed to stand without any support.

"Thanks, I owe you my bacon. Now do you mind telling me who you are and what you're doing in a place like this?" Jake asked as he withdrew his shotgun and checked to see how much ammo he had left.

"Okay," she began as the two of them started moving down the alley, "My name is Jill Valentine and I used to be a member of the Raccoon Police Department's S.T.A.R.S. unit."

Jill Valentine, the very woman Brad was looking for!

"Jill Valentine? I've heard your name before. I just encountered one of your teammates out here not too long ago. Some guy named Brad Vickers..." Jake told her as they moved side by side with weapons drawn.

"You saw Brad?" Jill asked with a look of surprise.

"Yeah, he told me he was looking for you. Said something about getting the hell outta dodge and then we got jumped by some eight foot tall freakshow with a rocket launcher," he said.

Mentioning the monster suddenly made the young woman go pale and then look away in sorrow.

"I take it you met the bastard too?" Jake asked.

"Yes..." she trailed off, "...And so did Brad..."

"Is he..." Jake was about to ask, but then refrained from saying the last word when he saw the look on the former S.T.A.R.S. member's face. Her look alone told him that the beast him and Brad had encountered had finally caught up to the latter and that he had probably not made it out alive in the end.

"I'm sorry to hear that. My name is Jake by the way. Jake Smith, I came to this place for a vacation, but instead I found myself in the middle of all this bullshit," the career criminal spoke again using his alias. He looked the woman over and found her very attractive, but thought it sucked that she had turned out to be a pig of all things. "Ironic how the second I arrive in town things suddenly go to hell," he laughed to himself.

"Don't worry, it's not your fault...It's Umbrella's!" Jill spoke with a pent up rage.

"Umbrella? The international pharmaceutical company?" he asked playing dumb with the officer. He knew he would have to be especially careful around her as she had probably gone through intensive psychological training aimed at seeing through acts played by suspects trying to lie their way out of the possible consequences.

"Yes, that Umbrella, a company that claims to be aimed at creating cures for all known diseases and bettering humanity. Trust me, it's all a charade. In reality, they are nothing more than a bunch of corrupt bastards running illegal bio-weapons experimentations aimed at only increasing the amount of money in their own wallets," she spat bitterly, thinking about what had just happened to Brad at the hands of the large stalking creature which she had nicknamed "Nemesis."

"Damn, that's some deep shit..." Jake trailed on pretending that the news dazed him. He had received the information about Umbrella's shady dealings and bizarre experimentations in that folder his benefactor had left on his doorstep so he did have an idea of what he was going up against, and what Nicholai had just done to him was another example of that company's true nature.

The two survivors walked down the alley where Jill would tell him basically everything Brad had told him about the incident at the Spencer Estate back in July, only this time with more intimate descriptions of what she and the others had encountered inside the mansion and of the web of death and deception they had stumbled into ending with Captain Wesker's betrayal and the eventual destruction of the mansion. Her descriptions then fast forwarded to the present, where she had agreed to stay behind in town to keep further tabs on Umbrella's activities and possible rumors of Chief Irons' involvement with the company when all of the madness began to occur.

Jake acted as if learning all of this information bothered him and in a way it really did, "Man, this is some seriously fucked up shit! Those bastards need to be stopped!" He would eventually stop one of their most important researchers behind all this madness.

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BAM!

"And another one bites the dust," Nicholai coldly stated as he twirled the silenced pistol around his finger like a Wild Western gunfighter. He stood over the remains of Pvt. Zane Destro, now deceased after taking a gunshot to the right temple. The icy supervisor happened across the young mercenary as he had just taken down three zombies and was dangerously low on ammo. He had been bitten several times during the confrontation and was still conscious, but would turn into one of the undead within a few hours. It only made perfect sense to kill the man while he was still a normal human, would be a waste of fewer bullets then.

"Let's see here..." Nicholai said as he pulled out his laptop and began typing in random information about the dead private, "...My you've actually done a fairly decent job, Pvt. Destro, your family would have been impressed," he said with a slight chuckle as he snapped the laptop shut. Since departing from the large group he had been with recently, he had encountered two more mercenaries. He found Ariel Slovak fighting a losing battle with an infected Doberman and simply walked away as if nothing happened while the man was torn apart. Next was Maurice Bedard, who was in the middle of fighting another group of zombies when he spotted his superior. The man begged for help, but instead was met with several bullets to the chest and left to the mercies of his remaining attackers. Traveling past an abandoned Sam Goody music store, he happened across the mutilated corpse of Beau Hambert. Although his face had been destroyed, he was still identified by a tattoo of a succubus and he still carried plenty of ammo the supervisor would need for his Sigpro sidearm. Not too far away he spotted Shane Collins, the tactical sniper from his unit, being chased down by another group of zombies. He figured for now he would let the zombies have their way with the young merc and even if he did manage to escape, he would be met with a bullet to the face. Several civilian survivors had cross his path as well, but they were of no concern to him and he callously walked away from them leaving them to their doom.

All the chaos surrounding the gruff sergeant brought a morbid sense of joy to his demented mind. All of these lowly civilians around him were nothing more than cattle: weak, stupid, and easily disposed of. Darwin's theory of natural selection was very true to him and only the strong survived. He was very strong in his own mind, leading him to believe that he was better than his own men and all of these pathetic townspeople. Only he, and he alone, deserved the money that was promised at the end of this mission because he knew how to survive and knew what was really going on in this whole ordeal.

However, not all of his men were as stupid as they looked.

There was Captain Mitch Hirami, a former U.S. Marine who had served nearly as long as Nicholai himself had within the ranks of U.B.C.S. He was a proud, intelligent soldier who was worthy to be in his position and treated his squadmates as if they were his own family, which he no longer had. He was a sharp man who would be on full alert in a situation like this, so he would probably have to pick the man off from a distance. 

Then there was Lt. Mikhail Victor, another proud veteran soldier. Nicholai had served alongside this man for many years. The man had a background working for the K.G.B., but left after he began to disagree with their methods and was then picked up by Umbrella. Thanks to his training from previous service, he had risen quickly through the ranks and was currently a lieutenant who would probably be in line for another major promotion after this mission had concluded. He was another very popular officer who was genuinely respected by the men under his command and would go through thick and thin to protect even the lowest grunt under his command, it was his responsibility in the truest sense of the word. He could recall that Mikhail still beat himself up over a recent mission that took place in Siberia in which an entire platoon of U.B.C.S. operatives had been sent into a research facility converted from an abandoned missile silo to investigate reports of a possible biohazardous leak with the objectives of rescuing any possible survivors and retrieving jeopardized data that was critical to the company's research. In the end, out of the twenty men who went in, only four came back alive, including himself and Mikhail. Nicholai now knew of his colleague's strongest weakness and would have to exploit it to get him out of the way.

Lastly was Corporal Carlos Oliveira. The kid may have been young, but you still could not underestimate him. He had been a fighter all his life and was already working as a bounty hunter when he was in his tender mid-teens. Within his short time he had proven himself as a formidable fighter, but he was still brash and impulsive at times, which could create plenty of openings for Nicholai to strike.

Strangely enough, that Jake Smith fellow he had just eliminated also raised some concerns. The man claimed to be employed by an out of town security firm and came to Raccoon City for a vacation, but there was something that was not right about him, something that made Nicholai suspicious of him from the very beginning. No ordinary civilian could handle themselves so well in such a situation, especially wielding military issue weapons with such accuracy as if their use was second nature to him. Even though he had shot the man dead in that back alley, he was still curious to find out who he really was and still waited for the results of the identity search being conducted by headquarters after he sent the man's photo into them.

"Should be soon," he thought to himself as he stumbled across the remnants of another small battle that had taken place.

The south entrance of Gentry Dr. was blocked off by several wrecked, bullet riddled police cars that still had their lights flashing and covered in the blood of both the police officers who had fought in vain to hold off the zombie onslaught and the zombies that had been killed off before they could reach the barricade. A S.W.A.T. van had attempted to ram through the barricade and the blood covering the windshield probably belonged to the driver. Corpses of all shapes and sizes laid shot up in front of the barricade and moans indicated that a few zombies still wandered around, but thankfully they were on the other side of the barricade, most of them wearing police uniforms indicating that they had been officers who fought foolishly against the swarming dead.

All the death laying before him made the man chuckle. Those weaklings had gotten what they deserved he thought to himself, but was suddenly interrupted by a moan and a tugging at his foot. He looked down to find a teenage boy grabbing onto his boot and trying to pull it closer to his mouth. "Hmph, too pitiful to live and too stupid to die right," Nicholai remarked as he yanked his foot free and then brought it backwards and then swung forward, delivering a powerful punt that sent the kid's head flying clean off his shoulders.

"Foolish..." the supervisor growled staring down at the headless corpse for a few seconds and then looked over to the barricade where some zombies had spotted him and were now attempting to climb over the wooden fortifications to get at him. For now he would leave someone else to do his dirty work for him and proceeded for an iron gate similar to the many he had come across during his time within Raccoon City. He would suddenly stop though when he heard a woman's voice.

"Oh my god, look!"

Listening to the footsteps he could determine that there was more than one person in the alley, so he would have to be quiet. Drawing his silenced pistol, Nicholai opened the gate as quietly as he could and crept into a shadowy area of the alley immediately hugging his back to the brickwall behind him. Keeping his ears open for any additional noises, he slowly inched further and further towards the turn and when the time came peeked his head out to find two individuals, a man and a woman, standing over the corpse of Jonas Ackerland, a soldier he recognized from Mikhail's detachment. The man had shot himself and in his hand held a small lavender book the woman was reaching for. She was a young woman who appeared to be in her early twenties and dressed in a blue tubetop and black mini-skirt with a white sweater wrapped around her waist. A grenade launcher was strapped to her back and she pulled out what looked like a M92F custom handgun as she reached for a box of ammunition found on the merc's corpse.

The man on the other hand Nicholai immediately recognized and a look of shock suddenly crossed his features.

"What? It cannot be, I shot that man dead," Nicholai thought to himself as he observed the man called Jake Smith standing over the woman as she searched Pvt. Ackerland's corpse. The man now had a bloody bandage wrapped around his head and when he turned forward, he could see the fabric torn on the younger man's t-shirt from where the bullets had struck. "Unless he was wearing a bulletproof vest. How could I be so foolish?" the supervisor mentally chastised himself, but then the thought hit him, "Then again, where would an ordinary civilian pick up a bulletproof vest if he didn't get it from a local gun shop?" he thought narrowing his eyes at the man he believed to be dead.

The young woman stood up and turned around to address Jake, "Come on, we should go through here and see what else we can find."

"Ah, so he's got himself a little girlfriend now I see." Whoever she was, just having her hang around Jake immediately caught Nicholai's interest and he pulled out his digital camera, quickly snapping a picture of the woman as she addressed Jake and then watched as the two exited through a nearby gate. He too would upload her image into the national criminal database and see what information he could dig up on her.

Machine gun fire sounded immediately, followed by a man's dying screams, dogs barking, and the booms of shotguns.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Ugh...Another close call!" Jake gasped ejecting the spent shell from his shotgun. 

He studied the maimed corpses of the zombified Dobermans that had attacked him and Jill the second they stepped onto their current street. There had been three of them and they were in the middle of tearing apart another U.B.C.S. operative when the entered. A few seconds sooner and they probably could have saved the man, but now was not the time to think about that.

The two of them stood outside a parking garage located on another street that had seen a great deal of carnage. Several wrecked cars littered the street like haphazardly tossed children's toys, including a city bus that looked like it had landed on top of three cars. Jill immediately recoiled in horror as she noticed a dead body dangling out of a front window impaled on several large shards of glass. Peering closer at the blood-splattered windows, Jake could see several silhouetted non-moving forms present in the wrecked vehicle and then a ghoulish white hand rub against the tinted glass and then a thud as the moving figure lunged against the window, barely cracking it.

With a shake of his head, Jake raised one of his Berettas and fired a shot through the glass and into the unseen figure's forehead, also raising a frightened cry from Jill.

"What are you doing?" she shouted diverting her attention from the body she was searching.

"A zombie," Jake replied, "Find anything?"

A small smile crossed Jill's features as she raised a box of shotgun shells into the air, "I found this and I counted twenty-four shells inside. How are you doing with your Remington?"

"I'm pretty low. Having to go through these mongrels didn't help much either," he said extending his hand towards his current companion. She divided the ammo up and offered him twelve shells, which he gladly accepted. His other weapons were starting to get pretty low as well and he would soon need to replenish his ammo supply.

Jill then returned her attention to the soldier's body and closed his eyes and mouth for him and said a silent prayer in his honor.

"Any ideas where we might find somebody else?" Jake asked staring down at the man's corpse.

The ex-S.T.A.R.S. member stood up and turned to face him, "The Grill 13 restaurant is nearby. It's a popular hangout around town, maybe we could look there, that and there's the Raccoon Times newspaper building not too far away, but we'll have to take a shortcut," she said and then made a run for the parking garage entrance.

Jake followed closely behind, but no sooner than he made it he dodged to the right as yet another zombie dog leapt in his direction, quickly done in by a shotgun blast from Jill. Before he could thank her, another dog was charging for her, "Look out!" he shouted and fired a shell into the creature's skull before it could even leap into the air.

"Wow, I owe you one now," Jill smiled placing her hand on her hip while the other held her shotgun brushing against the ground.

"Heh, no problem. Most I could do for the way you helped me back there. If it weren't for you, I'd probably be zombie chow by now," he nodded in her direction.

Never in his mind could he think that he would owe his safety to a police officer of all people. Usually they would be ganging up on him trying to throw his ass in the nearest eight by six foot cell, but tonight more than one officer had relied upon his help in this dire situation, then again nobody around this town was really aware of his criminal reputation.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It lurked in the shadows in search of its prey. So far it had already claimed one of its intended targets, the cowardly man in the yellow vest who had eluded it just hours before. He was much easier to kill this time around as he stood still paralyzed with fear. He had killed the man, but one target still remained.

The woman, only she remained. She was a crafty individual who had already eluded him on two separate occasions and had even managed to temporarily knock him out with the weapons she carried. His target was indeed a slick one, but she was only delaying the inevitable. He would catch her and eventually kill her like he had been programmed to do.

The eerie silence was shattered as the creature's thunderous footsteps boomed like miniature earthquakes, warning any souls nearby to seek shelter immediately or risk being sucked into its destructive path. Everybody was in danger when the Nemesis came lurking their way...Everybody!

Pure instinct drove the infernal beast as it hunted for its last remaining target. It had to keep repeating its single word to itself to remind it to stay on track while on the hunt. It didn't have ears, but it could still hear movement from a mile away, its senses of sight and smell were also far beyond those of an ordinary human being and the thought of completely eluding the beast was next to impossible. Its drive to complete its task made it ten times more dangerous than any of the other B.O.W.s combined, the fact that it could even think of a task to complete other than wandering around mindlessly looking to satisfy its insatiable hunger truly made it a force to be reckoned with.

Nemesis grunted to itself as it strode down another darkened back alley, backhanding and tossing aside any infected citizens that stood in its way with great ease. Over the moans it strained its hearing for any sign of its target, only coming up with gunshots, crackling flames, sounds from the other creatures running around the city, and the cries of other pitiful survivors, but none were of the woman it had been searching for.

Had the woman evaded him? No.

"Quick! Over there!" a voice called out.

It was her, she was nearby! Another voice, a masculine one, called out behind her, another one the creature also recognized.

"I'm right behind you!"

That voice...It was that unknown human male it encountered in the Tool It Up superstore who was with its previous target it had eliminated. Thinking of the nameless man made the creature's blood boil. Whoever that man was, he had already shot him several times with a high-powered handgun and had leveled an entire building on top of him. He too would be fair game for what he had done to the mutant.

"S.T.A.R.S.!"

Drawing its head back for a mighty roar it was then off in search of its prey!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

With all the force she could muster up, Jill flung herself through the opened door and hit the cold concrete with a loud thud.

Jake was right on her heels firing his dual Berettas into the darkness behind them before he spotted the swinging door and slammed it shut with a resounding boom. Pressing his muscular frame against the door he sunk to the ground huffing and puffing while listening for any more screeching noises that came from the same bug-like monsters he had encountered back at Santino's hours earlier, but thankfully heard nothing. Perhaps those last shots he fired had connected with the Drain Deimos creature that had stalked him and Jill on their way out of the construction site.

He looked over to find Jill down on the concrete scrambling back to her feet, "What the hell were those things?" she uttered. Despite having survived an entire mansion full of zombies and other genetically-engineered monstrosities she still found herself flabbergasted by those hairy bug-like creatures the two of them had just gone through, which reminded her much of the hideous Chimeras.

"Nothing new to me," Jake replied after taking a heavy breath, "I encountered some of those things a few hours back at Santino's. I have no idea what the fuck those things are called. Frankly, I don't think I wanna know either," he finished checking over his shotgun.

"They just get uglier and uglier," Jill said reloading her Benelli M3S shotgun. The two of them had just been through a small construction site where they had done battle with more infected canines and the young woman had just had her first encounter with the Drain Deimos and now they were on some side street in a part of downtown that the ex-S.T.A.R.S. operative seemed to be familiar with, "Come on, we should be close-"

Gunshots rang out from a distance and Jill looked down to the corner to find another man who was dressed in U.B.C.S. gear gunning down a zombie. "Scumbag!" he shouted as the creature hit the ground and then ran off.

"Quick! Over there!" she shouted pointing in the man's direction and chased after him.

"I'm right behind you!" Jake replied and began chasing after the young woman and following her past some kind of bizarre war memorial he would have to check out later, but right now he spotted the very building Jill had mentioned before, the Grill 13 restaurant!

"Here it is!" she called back to him as she approached the doors and went inside followed closely behind.

Grill 13 was relatively small for being one of the most popular hangouts in all of Raccoon City and for now it appeared to be clear of any possible threats. The bright red walls and booths almost seemed to mock Jake as if they had been painted by the blood of all the innocents in the city, burning so brightly he was almost forced to shield his eyes. All of the tables were littered with partially consumed food and drink and papers were scattered all over the tables, however no blood was present indicating that there was no struggle involved, but that perhaps the patrons had been forewarned of the attacks and were in a hurry to get back to their homes and families before they would become a midnight snack. Out of all the scattered items he managed to spot two welcome objects.

"Bullets," he quietly said aloud and then walked over to the table and scooped up the two boxes and then gave one to Jill, who then proceeded to search the back kitchen area for any items that could be of use. The kitchen was surprisingly clean and looked as if it hadn't been used much earlier in the day, which was expected with a lot of the chaos that had been going on recently. He watched as Jill's attention was suddenly caught by a small cabinet in the corner near the rear entrance and pulled out a lockpick and began working on it. A few seconds later a click was heard and the ex-S.T.A.R.S. member turned around with a fire hook in hand.

Jake looked at the item and then to a trap door that laid on the floor behind him, "There, we could probably search for something down there," he said motioning towards the door. Jill nodded and then handed him the fire hook before she was ordered to stand back.

"Here we go," Jake grunted as he stuck the hook into the opening and slowly lifted it up with some great exertion before it finally flipped open, "Okay it's done, now we-"

More footsteps were heard. Could it be Nicholai coming back to get him again? Instinctively, the two survivors whirled around with shotguns drawn only to find a familiar face.

"Whoa, easy there! I'm no zombie!" the young Latin man spoke as he lowered his rifle and raised his other hand, but then stopped as he recognized Jake, "Jake, what are you doing here?"

"You know this man?" Jill asked eyeing the man awkwardly as she spotted the Umbrella logo on his uniform.

"Carlos, we're looking for more survivors. We're going to try and reach the station," Jake said addressing the merc until a loud crash rang out.

"S.T.A.R.S.!"

The booming demonic voice rang out from nowhere, sending a chill down the career criminal's spine. "No, it can't be!" he thought to himself, "I blew him up back at that hardware store. I should have killed him!" He suddenly clutched the shotgun tightly in his hands and slowly backed himself into the dining area.

"How does this freak keep finding me?" Jill gasped.

"I don't know, but it don't look good," Carlos added and then motioned for the lady to follow him into the dining area. Both of them knelt beneath the counter while Jake stood off to the side with shotgun ready.

Jill peeked her head over the counter and spotted the Nemesis monster advancing towards them, but also saw how it struck one of the gas tanks and sprung a leak. Looking at a lamp that sat before her she quickly grabbed it, "Get ready boys!" she said before tossing the lamp at the gas leak. She quickly joined Carlos on the floor before a small explosion occurred that sent the Nemesis flying over the counter.

"Shit!" Carlos blurted out as he was nearly struck by one of the unconscious monster's large fists and scuttled backwards to avoid being touched by the creature. He staggered back to his feet and stared at the beast, "Is it dead?" he asked training his assault rifle on the monster and never wavering his aim.

Jake highly doubted the creature was dead and wanted to get out of the building as soon as possible. If that creature could survive an entire building being dropped onto it, then a small explosion like what had just occurred would probably barely even faze it. "I don't know and I don't think we should stick around to find out either," he said slowly backing towards the entrance not taking his eyes off the creature.

"Come on!" Jill ordered trying to make a run for the back door, but as Jake had predicted, the monster was not completely down for the count yet.

"S.T.A.R.S.!"

Nemesis rose back to its feet and let out an ungodly roar and then focused its attention on Jill as if she were to be its intended target.

"Oh no you don't!" Jill shouted and drew her HK-P grenade launcher and fired an acid round into the creature's chest. The monster roared in pain, but moved on as if only a water balloon had been thrown at its chest. She grunted in disgust as she loaded a new round into the weapon and fired another round into the same spot where she had hit the creature last, knocking it back a few steps. The creature kept advancing and kept taking everything that was fired at it. The ex-S.T.A.R.S. member was growing desperate as she was slowly being back into a corner by the beast and it would soon catch her off guard as she had to reload.

"Come on dammit, I've knocked you down twice before and I can do it again," she thought to herself as she fired another round that caught the creature in the stomach, but again the acid failed to slow it down and within seconds it towered over her with its right hand drawn back.

TATATATATATATATATATATATATATATAT!

BL-BLAM! BL-BLAM! BL-BLAM! BL-BLAM!

A mixture of assault rifle and shotgun fire filled the air and the Nemesis creature was stopped as a series of rounds pounded against its broad back. It could only growl as it felt the pain and then turned to face its assailants.

Carlos and Jake stood side by side firing everything they had into the creature in the hopes of saving their newfound companion. They both grunted in desperation as the creature seemed to shrug off their bullets as well, but they could see that Jill was beginning to regain her bearings and was loading an explosive round into her grenade launcher.

"Jill don't!" Carlos cried out, "We're in a confined space, you could blow us all up!" he shouted as he fired a bunch of rounds into the monster's chest and face, which made it growl in anger and suddenly charge at the two of them.

"Shit!" Jake cried as he saw the creature sprint at him with its arm extended outward. He saw the creature make its move and quickly rolled back into the dining area. Carlos however wasn't as lucky as the Nemesis brought its arm forward and clotheslined him backwards into the nearest wall, cracking it upon impact.

Jake quickly reloaded his shotgun and went into a fighting stance, "Hey freak! Over here!" As soon as the Nemesis turned its attention to him, he unloaded a round of buckshot into its face, knocking it backwards and sending its purple blood splattering all over the surrounding appliances. He didn't stop there as he continued to fire round after round into the creature, showing no mercy as it was knocked backwards into an oven and burnt by the flames. More powerful rounds slammed into the creature's chest and he spotted Jill running towards him firing rounds from a magnum that was identical to his own.

"Come on!" she shouted at the creature as she ran alongside it, quickly ducking under an attempted swing the monster had delivered as she ran. Within a second she now stood alongside Jake firing what she had into the creature. Carlos meanwhile was regaining his senses and slowly returning to his feet using his assault rifle as a brace when he struggled back to his feet. The career criminal and the ex-S.T.A.R.S. member formed a protective barrier in front of him as they continued to take potshots at the creature all over its body.

Nemesis had been designed to withstand a heavy amount of punishment, but it could be knocked out for short periods of time if it took enough damage and right now it was taking a lot. The only thing that really kept the creature going was its desire to kill its remaining target, along with the unknown human who stood alongside her that had done serious damage to him hours earlier. It wanted blood and it was determined to kill something human by the night's end. With a demonic roar, it made another charge.

"Heads up!" Jake shouted to Carlos as he grabbed the man and quickly pulled him off to the side. A second later, the monster's large fist was driven through the wall.

"Too slow, fuckface!" the career criminal taunted as he fired another round of buckshot into the creature's shoulder. He was getting dangerously low on ammo for his shotgun and would soon be relegated to using his magnum and dual handguns on the monster. He still had one hand grenade left, but could not use it because he was in a small space where he would potentially kill himself along with Jill and Carlos if done. He had overheard something about Jill having two previous encounters with this creature and had managed to knock it out temporarily. Even if he could only knock the beast out and get far away from it, then it would be worth it.

Light popping was heard again as Carlos had resumed his fight with the creature and booms followed as Jill switched back to using her shotgun on the monster. Nemesis roared in frustration as it received more rounds to its enhanced body and with a heave brought its fist down and splintered one of the nearby tables. The two other survivors continued to fire away relentlessly at the creature directing most of their bullets at its head, but it would be a painful shot to the monster's shoulder that would divert its attention elsewhere.

A loud boom echoed from behind and a purple mist sprayed from the mutant's right shoulder. It roared in pain as its blood gushed all over the surrounding furniture like a geyser and clawed away at its wound turning around to see the same unknown human standing there with shotgun in hand.

"S.T.A.R.S.!"

Jake inflicted a painful wound to the monster that had it wailing in pain and swinging its arms around as it turned around to find him standing there with his shotgun in hand. He quickly reached into his pocket and found that he was down to his last four shells, he would have to make them count.

"Here goes," he said quietly and fired two shots into the monster's chest followed by another shot to its wounded shoulder and then the last round barely grazed the side of the creature's head as it picked up speed and snatched the weapon from his hands. With a quick clench of its fist, the weapon was reduced to pieces. 

"Dammit!" he shouted and tried to reach for his magnum, but the creature was faster and delivered a running punch that caught him in the chest, sending the career criminal flying into the wall behind him with a sick thud. Thankfully for him, his bulletproof vest had absorbed most of the impact, but the armor plating underneath was dented and the wind was knocked out of him. He prayed that he had no internal injuries, but didn't have time to think about that as he was backhanded and then felt a large hand wrap around his throat.

Jake tried to cry out, but the Nemesis monster's grip was too strong and he could barely let out a low gurgle, even opening his eyes was a challenge. When he finally managed to open his eyes long enough, he stared into the creature's hideous face and was met with a malicious smile that gave away the creature's intentions as it dangled him in the air. A demonic twinkle shown in the monster's single white eye as it held him and clenched its teeth together as it tightened its grip on the career criminal's throat.

Everything suddenly went dark and the world began to shut down around him, so much that he didn't even feel the weightlessness of being held in the air, hear the popping of Carlos' assault rifle, the hiss of acid as another acidic round was launched into the creature's back followed by its roar of pain, or being toss through the air and landing on a nearby table.

"Let him go!" Jill shouted as she once again withdrew her grenade launcher. The Nemesis creature held Jake by the neck and had him lifted more than a foot off the ground toying with him before he would kill him. She had to act fast as the monster was only seconds away from snapping his neck and fired a round into the monster's back.

Nemesis roared in pain and tossed Jake through the air like a rag doll, sending him flying over a partition and crashing through another table. Jill had accomplished a temporary objective of saving her companion, but now she would have to worry about saving her own skin as the creature made a beeline towards her.

The ex-S.T.A.R.S. member braced herself as the creature made its charge and raised its fist back. With lightning-quick reflexes, she rolled under a charging punch from the creature, its fist obliterating the restaurant's cash register in a shower of sparks and metal. Jill didn't even bother to speak as she fired another round into the side of the creature's head, burning away some of the skin on the right side of its face just inches away from its lone eye. Carlos joined in again, firing the rest of his current clip into the creature's chest before taking cover behind a partition to reload.

"S.T.A.R.S.!" the creature roared angrily as it took another swing at her, which she quickly sidestepped, but was knocked off balance and struggling to keep hold of her grenade launcher and it took another swing until the weapon was finally knocked from her hands. With a third swipe, the creature finally caught her by the throat and raised her into the air.

"No!" Carlos cried running up to the creature to fire another barrage into its face, but was quickly backhanded and set flying against the bar counter. With him out of the way the Nemesis was free to return its attention to its target and hoisted her back into the air.

Jill didn't want to believe it, but she was starting to think that the end was near as she stared down into the large monstrosity's one soulless eye and saw Death itself staring back at her, the same position Brad was in before he died and now she would end up just like him if something didn't happen soon. The sick sound of flesh being torn was heard as the monster raised its left hand and a tentacle sprouted from its wrist.

This was going to be the end...Until a flicker of movement caught her attention.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

The loud booms of a magnum filled the air and the Nemesis jolted as it was struck from behind by the powerful bullets, causing it to forget about Jill for now and turn around to face its attacker.

Jill fell to the floor clutching at her sore throat when she looked up to see who her savior was. It was Jake, but right now he looked like he had just been involved in a serious car wreck. The bandage he wore around his forehead was now mostly colored crimson except for a few white spots by his blood and extra blood flowed out from his head wound, covering his ears and running down his neck. He also bled from his nose and his lower lip that had been split open by the backhand from Nemesis and his right cheek had swollen along with a blackened area around his right eye, nearly swelling it shut. The young man was also hunched over clutching his side, but he didn't seem to care as he kept his gun raised. All he cared about was inflicting a painful revenge on the large monster that stood before him.

"Heh...I ain't dead yet freak!" Jake announced as he raised the reloaded magnum and fired another round into the creature's sternum. The creature growled in pain as purple blood decorated its broad chest. He then lowered the gun and fired a round into its left knee cap and focused the last four rounds of its current speed loader on the beast's upper body, catching it once in the forehead and causing it to stagger around drunkenly.

"Quick! I think its almost down for the count!" Jake called out to Jill as he watched her slowly rising back to her feet. The young woman slowly nodded and withdrew her own S&W M629C magnum and fired an entire round into the creature's back again, sending her last two shots into the back of the creature's skull before it began to wobble and finally fell forwards to the tiled floor, shaking the ground as it connected and splattering purple blood all over.

"Aye-yay-yay!" Carlos grunted as he struggled back to his feet and then looked down to the prone beast lying on the floor, "Is it dead?"

"I don't think so and I don't want to find out," Jill added backing away from the beast.

"Come on, let's go before Sleeping Beauty decides he wants to go for round two," Jake said as he stumbled over to Jill, who caught him and proceeded to help him to the back door and the three of them exited together and found themselves in a back alley leading to a special arcade mall.

"Guess I'll be going," Carlos said and was about to run off until Jill stopped him.

"Wait a minute, just who are you and what are you doing here?" she asked tapping her magnum against her hip.

"Oh me, I'm Carlos. I'm part of the biohazard countermeasures squad sent in by Umbrella."

"Sent by Umbrella," Jill said aloud with eyes growing wide as saucers.

"Yeah, I know your friend Jake too," the merc said nodding to the career criminal who nodded in return.

"I have to ask you something," Jill said getting in the man's face.

"Wait I get it, I know you wanna ask me out, right? It's my accent, all the sexy ladies love it. It drives them wild," he said straightening up his hair and winking towards her.

"Heh, as if! I want to know just what are you doing here?" she asked crossing her arms.

"We're here on a rescue mission. Our job is to get survivors to the the St. Michael's Clocktower and then evacuate them to safety."

"But Umbrella is responsible for all of this madness!" she protested.

"Hey lady look, we're just mercenaries, hired hands. Do you think the master would tell his dogs why he threw the stick and asked them to fetch? Think about it!" He then quickly turned and ran off.

"What was that all about?" Jill asked staring awkwardly at the alley the merc ran down and then back over to Jake, who was treating his wounds with a first-aid spray he carried on him.

"Heh, hell if I know. All I wanna do is get the hell out of this city and back to some place that's sane! What about you?"

Jill raised her shotgun, "I have to go back. I have to go back to a warehouse not too far away from my apartment and find some guy I met earlier. I hope this time I might be able to convince him to come along. He was some ill-tempered pig who would rather starve to death in there, but I have no choice. I can't just leave him behind like that," she nodded.

"All right, I'll be off then," he saluted and then ran down the alley.

"Jake, wait!"

Jake turned around to find Jill standing there with a look of uncertainty upon her delicate features, "Will I see you again anytime soon?"

The career criminal looked at her in an unsure matter. Here she was, a cop of all people asking if she would ever see him again. He could only hope that she wasn't trying to ask him out on a date, being involved with a pig of all people was the absolute last thing a "lowly thug" like him would need and he hoped she wasn't starting to develop feelings for him.

"Maybe...I honestly have no idea..." he said and then turned around and walked away.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Nicholai watched as the three survivors parted ways from a nearby rooftop. To him, this was definitely a good thing because now Corporal Oliveira was all alone and the supervisor would be able to track the young soldier down all by himself without interference from the civilian and the nameless woman who was with them.

"Heh, pitiful scum," he scoffed to himself, but was interrupted by a beeping noise that came from his laptop. He quickly opened the device to find an important message from headquarters, the results of the identity searches!

Anxiously typing away at the keyboard and came across the first file. Clicking it open it displayed the woman's image. She was listed as Jillian Alice Valentine, born on February 14, 1975 and was born and raised in Cleveland, Ohio. A little dossier came up displaying that she had been a member of the Racoon Police Department's Special Tactics and Rescue Squad (S.T.A.R.S.) division and had been involved in the Spencer Estate incident that took place on July 23. She had been suspended indefinitely after the incident along with the other surviving agents sent in: Chris Redfield, Barry Burton, Rebecca Chambers, and Brad Vickers. Chief Brian Irons of the R.P.D. had barely managed to cover up the incident, but all agents had multi-million dollar bounties on their heads and were being hunted as of right now. An interesting note was also made that she was the daughter of the infamous cat burglar Dick Valentine, who was currently serving time at an undisclosed detention facility. Whether or not she had committed any crimes herself was not listed.

"Hmph, well what do you know, I've had a billion dollar bitch under my nose this entire time. Well we'll see just how long you last when I get my hands on you," Nicholai remarked and then focused his attention on the next file.

The next file displayed a picture of the man who called himself Jake Smith, except this was no ordinary driver's license picture, this had been a prison mugshot photo displaying his frontal and side profile views. His vital statistics would then be displayed along with his real name. It seems that the man he had tried to kill in that back alley was not Jake Smith, security firm employee, but Jake Cavanaugh, a notorious career criminal wanted for numerous offenses all over the country. Born on January 12, 1974 in Somerset, California, he had been starting trouble as early as his teens according to his profile. The file would also display a mile long laundry list of offenses the young criminal had committed over the years and all of the gangs he supposedly had connections with.

"My, you certainly are a piece of work...Mr. Cavanaugh," the man chuckled as he uttered the young man's real name, "It says according to your criminal file that you basically hire yourself out to the highest bidder...Could that be your business here? And if so, why are you here and who are you working for?" Nicholai wondered as he looked off into the direction the man had run. He then pulled out his silenced pistol and pointed it in the direction the man had run, "If you cross my path again boy, I will claim your head as my own, and if you're here to strike at the company's interests, then I will string you up on a rusty hook and let you suffer nice and slowly before I kill you!" he half-shouted, but then collected himself, "I'm sure Umbrella would pay a hefty sum for your head, maybe we could even use you as one of our experiments after seeing you in action."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake found himself on a street in the uptown area of the city, walking along a block filled with more demolished shops, car wrecks, and shot up corpses suggesting that the cavalry must have moved through here already and done the job for him, probably U.B.C.S. operatives for sure he thought to himself.

"Heh, save me the work," Jake muttered as he looked around for any signs of danger. He now had his dual Berettas drawn and would save the magnum rounds for in case that Nemesis creature ever decided to rear its ugly head up again. Right now he was in searching for some kind of clue that could possibly lead him to some kind of Umbrella research facility within the city and had to keep his eyes open. He passed a small bar called "Bar Jack" and the small boutique next door when he looked ahead and saw something posted on the side of an apartment building.

"A map!" he said quietly and quickly ran over to it and snatched it from the brick exterior and began studying for any possible places of interest. Almost immediately he spotted that he was two blocks away from the city's police station. He knew that was probably the last place he would want to be on a regular day, but in a time like this he would have no other choice, plus they would have tons of ammo for him if the cops had not used it all up already and he could possibly find leads on Umbrella, Inc.'s recent activities and the locations of possible research stations around the city. He also learned of the location of St. Michael's Clocktower, which the U.B.C.S. operatives had been looking for and Raccoon Municipal Hospital, where he could probably find medical supplies if need be. He finally found one thing he was looking for, the main headquarters of the Raccoon branch of Umbrella, Inc. Unfortunately though, it was located in the exact center of the city and would be too much ground to cover on foot with all the zombies and other monsters that were still running around outside. 

Strangely enough, some thought lingered at the back of his mind that a high risk target like William Birkin would probably not be in a place that was easily recognizable like the main office headquarters. No, if he was a scientist working on dangerous experiments he would probably be hidden some place out of the public eye, maybe somewhere...Underground.

Shuffling footsteps and gurgling moans interrupted the career criminal's thoughts and he turned to see another group of zombies slowly moving towards him. Unfortunately though, he had been roughed up pretty badly by that skirmish with Nemesis and wouldn't be able to fight at full capacity. He was exhausted anyway after going for nearly an entire day without sleep and looked down to his watch to see that dawn was near and he would soon need rest and a fresh meal before he would feel any better. He remembered that he had one last hand grenade left and reached for it.

"I'd love to stay and chat, but I've gotta be on my way," Jake said as he withdrew the hand grenade and tossed it into the crowd of approaching zombies.

An explosion followed as he made his way for the Raccoon Police Department.

Author's Note: Yes, parts of this chapter are intended to follow through one of the actual paths you are able to take in "Resident Evil 3: Nemesis" where you have your first meeting with Carlos, and I am aware that some parts of this story are not fully accurate with what Jill finds in the game. Outside the parking garage when she first comes across the dead U.B.C.S. soldier, in the game he is carrying a "Gunpowder B" on his corpse, which when combined with the reloading tool will create shotgun shells. In the story, I make them shotgun shells right away to avoid the hassle of Jill having to carry around the reloading tool. Also, in the game, Nemesis kills Brad in the R.P.D. courtyard, but this time around I will have it where Nemesis took him out elsewhere so it won't conflict with upcoming events in my story. Also in this chapter, I list Jake's birthday as being January 12, 1974, which would in the present make him 31 years old today, that however is subject to change though. Future fics starring him will probably take place in the present time, meaning I will change his year of birth so his age (24) matches up with the current year, if Art of Fighting can do it, then so can I. Well read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/ 


	15. Chapter 13: Sanctuary in the Madness

Darkness Arises by E-Z B

Author's Note: Hello all, the epic battle between my computer and I raged on again recently. My internet connection was fucking up again and I didn't come online for nearly two weeks, but now I'm back and I hope things don't go to shit on me again anytime soon. I know I've pissed off a few people with my little "sabbatical," but now I'm back to bring you this latest installment of Darkness Arises! Read and review when you get the chance and now on with the story!

Chapter 13: Sanctuary in the Madness

More running. That's all Jake Cavanaugh had been doing tonight, fighting for his life and running when he knew the odds were against him. He had managed to come so far with his tip-top, if not advanced physical conditioning, but now all the hours of fighting were finally beginning to catch up to him and he could feel his muscles fighting against him wanting him to stop and take a breather, but he couldn't as the moans of the undead echoed in the distance. No matter how fast he ran, those torturous moans seemed to be one step behind him wherever he went.

"Come on, just one more block," Jake gasped aloud as he looked up to see the sign for "Becker Ave," telling him that he was just one block away from reaching the police station. Just realizing he was so close to his intended destination made his own body begin to work even harder against him as he could be heard panting heavily and began to slow down. He passed another book store where he spotted two more zombies stumbling about drunkenly and then a Chinese restaurant where another three were alerted by his heavy footfalls against the pavement and began shambling after him. He would have stayed to fight, but with the physical toll taken on his body he would probably pass out from exhaustion, especially after the beating he sustained at the hands of Nemesis. "Not now, Jake. These freaks will have to wait until later," the voice inside his head told him as he reminded himself that he had to get to the police station first and worry about them later.

A police station was usually the absolute last place Jake would ever want to visit, especially after some of the major crimes he had committed in the past. Very rarely did he ever get captured, but when he did it was a major struggle as almost every officer in the station wanted to get a piece of him. Fortune had been on his side in the past as he was either busted out by his trusted allies, able to arrange a daring escape on his own (especially one in the past where he had managed to knock out an officer, steal his uniform, and then walk out of the station virtually unnoticed), or was just able to bribe his way out through the corrupt officers present. This time was different, this time he was entering a police station under his own free will and didn't have to be hauled in the back of a squad car in full restraints. He didn't want to go, but at the same time he had to as it could be the only place he might be able to find food, extra ammunition, and rest. Besides, the pigs here would be more occupied with fighting the undead rather than chasing around a wanted criminal who was doing nothing other than defending himself in this scenario.

"Besides, if those pigs give me any shit I could still take 'em. Hell, I've taken on S.W.A.T. officers and Feds with a broken limbs, concussions, heavy blood loss, and even a 104 temperature..." the career criminal smirked to himself and rounded a corner, only to come into contact with a large three story gray building at the end of the next street surrounded by ten foot high concrete walls and iron gates. The building could have easily passed for a medieval fortress, but the large white letters posted above the front gate immediately gave away the building's true identity.

The R.P.D.!

Several barricades had also been constructed in front of the large structure, consisting of the department's black and white squad cars, S.W.A.T. vans, pylons, sandbags, wooden barriers, razor wire, steel security railing, small concrete walls, and anything else that could be used to help keep the monsters at bay. Behind the barricades, Jake spotted several very much alive uniformed officers and S.W.A.T. members, even with armed civilians amongst them, all carrying several different types of small arms and heavy artillery ready for anything that would come their way.

The officers present immediately perked up at the sight of the injured career criminal being followed by the zombies and he could see one of the S.W.A.T. officers waving him over to the barricade while the others readied their weapons.

"Come on!" the officer shouted, his voice slightly muffled by his helmet. The man then raised an H&K MP5 submachine gun and then turned to his fellow officers, "Hold your fire! Nobody shoot until I give the order!"

Jake heard the officer's command and pumped his arms as he fought to increase his speed. He wanted to reach that barricade as quickly as he could, the faster he made it, the faster those cops would be able to get those zombies off his tail. With the officer's order ringing in his head, he began to pick up speed and was careful to avoid the bodies and spent firearm casings littering the ground beneath him. Even though he looked at the bodies briefly, he could tell that most of the dead consisted of men and women dressed in civilian attire, their peeling, ashen skin revealing that they had been zombified before they were all shot to death. The rest of the bodies were those of police officers decked out in either S.W.A.T. body armor or blue uniforms, covered in blood pouring from gashes in their necks, stomaches, chests, and elsewhere on their bodies. Many still clutched their weapons as they were left to forever stare blindly into the starless night sky above.

The career criminal looked down to see the strands of razor wire in front of some sandbags that re-inforced a hasty fence stretching across the entire street. He had to slow down to avoid being cut by the wire and then tried to push some of the pain aside as he climbed the sandbags and stood before the eight and a half foot tall fence. "Here goes..." he said quietly taking some deep breaths and with a grunt launched himself into the air.

He cried out as he slammed against the makeshift barrier and almost immediately five officers clambered to help him over shouting orders to each other as they held onto his muscular arms and yanked repeatedly before they finally managed to get him over.

The S.W.A.T. officer who had waved Jake towards the barricade then turned to another officer carrying an M-79 grenade launcher, "Cutsforth, burn these bastards now! Everybody else, be ready in case there's more of those freaks close behind!"

Cutsforth nodded towards his superior and loaded some napalm rounds into his launcher and then raised the mighty weapon and with a loud "whump," fired a round into the small group of approaching zombies, striking one head on and igniting another nearby leaving it to walk around ablaze before the flames finally consumed it and it collapsed to the ground in a charred heap. He then fired another round into the group, setting two more on fire and leaving them to burn to death. Before he could take down the last one, the superior stopped him and then fired a round into the creature's forehead himself.

"Shit! Sarge, I think our new guest just led some more of these freaks to us!" shouted another S.W.A.T. officer looking through his binoculars.

"What? Give me those!" the sergeant ordered grabbing the binoculars away from the other officer. He looked through to see about fifteen more zombies approaching the barricade and quickly pulled out his radio, "Portland, Vale, we've got more unwanted arrivals. I want both of you ready to pick them off as soon as they come within thirty feet of this place!"

"Yes sir!"

Luckily for Jake, some cardboard boxes and an old mattress had been there to cushion his fall after he was pulled over the makeshift fence, but still found himself grunting in pain as he landed on his side. As soon as he landed the five officers who had helped him over returned to their positions and were prepared for the oncoming zombies. From side to side officers were positioned a few feet apart from each other with guns aiming over the fence, but two people stood out amongst the black and blue like sore thumbs.

The first person was a young woman who looked no older than twenty. She had straight blonde hair that looked like it would fall only a few inches past her shoulders, but at the moment was kept back in a ponytail. She had an athletic figure that was covered by a skin-tight red and white motorcycle outfit, black biker boots, and wore black and red biker gloves. Strangely enough she wore a police-issue bulletproof vest with "R.P.D." stitched across the chest. In her hands she held a Browning HP handgun.

Positioned between two officers armed with Colt M-4's was a man who stood well over six feet tall and was built like a tank. He had long black hair pulled back into a ponytail, a thin mustache with the rest of his face covered by a three day old stubble, and had arms displaying numerous tattoos, scars, and callouses. He wore camouflage pants, black biker boots with gold chains, fingerless leather gloves, a black t-shirt, had shades clipped to his shirt, and wore a blue denim vest. Imprinted on the back of the vest was the design of a skull with horns and fangs. Its eyes were blood red with no pupils and was outlined by bright orange, reddish-orange, and yellow flames. Stitched above the garish design in dark red bold, choppy lettering was the word "ROAD" with "DEMONS" at the bottom in the same kind of design. The man looked to the side and revealed on his front left breast the name "Ace" was stitched in red cursive lettering. He held a Benelli M3S shotgun in hand like both he and Jill had been carrying earlier and he saw that the man also carried a customized Glock-17 handgun in a holster around his waist.

Gunshots rang out from above and Jake looked up to the station's rooftop to see several muzzle flashes where the snipers were firing from. As the shots sounded, the iron gates opened from behind and six individuals appeared, two of whom Jake immediately recognized as Donald and David, the latter of whom had removed his Kevlar helmet while the rest of his S.W.A.T. teammates still wore theirs. With them were a young Caucasian officer with short reddish-brown hair who looked like he was probably fresh out of the police academy, wearing one of the newer blue uniforms that had a bulletproof vest sewn into it that proudly displayed the white letters of the "R.P.D.," and another was a tall African-American man whom Jake recognized from the barricade massacre back on Main St. The other two men were S.W.A.T. officers carrying MP5's and immediately made their way to re-inforce the barricade while David, Donald, and the two other men approached Jake.

"Jake, you made it!" David said overjoyed to see his one-time traveling companion had finally reached the safety of the police station.

"Yeah," he said dusting his trenchcoat off, "it took me a few hours, but I'm here...Mind telling me where that fat pig Dario is so I can skin the little fucker alive?" Jake growled as he thought of the ill-tempered salesman who had abandoned him back at that shipping garage and left him to fend off a pack of zombies all by himself.

"We'll worry about that later. Right now, let's just worry about finding out what the hell is going on here and killing those freaking zombies!" Donald snapped as he brushed past the two men and made his way towards the barricade.

"What's up with him?" Jake asked carefully scratching his head.

"We'll tell you later," the younger black officer cut in, "Let's just get rid of those zombies out there before they can cause any more damage!" he said readying his pistol.

The snipers on the station roof fired repeatedly into the crowd of approaching zombies, killing most of them right away. A few of the monsters managed to shamble past the shots fired at them and approached the fortifications with surprising speed for their undead state. The S.W.A.T. sergeant saw this and quickly raised his MP5, "Everybody fire at will!"

On cue, every officer present began firing into the surviving zombies until every last one of them fell one by one and within seconds the former undead were reduced to one large pile of lifeless rotting flesh, aside from one which still crawled on its stomach, but was quickly put down by a round from one of the snipers.

"Dieter, is that all of them?" the sergeant called out to his designated spotter.

Ian Dieter nodded to his superior and looked through his binoculars yards down the street in front of him. Aside from some smoke in the air, his view was mostly unobstructed and the only movement he could find was that of discarded papers blowing through the air and a trashcan rolling in the wind, "I don't see anything, Sarge! I think we cleared them out!"

A wave of relief fell over Sgt. Wade Foreman and he immediately felt the tension cease as he lowered his submachine gun for what seemed like the first time in hours, "All right...Everybody remain on alert for any additional threats!" he ordered as he stepped down from his perch and made his way towards Jake.

"Son, are you all right? You barely made it here alive, did any of those things bite or scratch you?" the sergeant asked surveying the young career criminal with his intense cobalt blue eyes.

"No," Jake replied, making note of the officer's last name as being "Foreman" according to his nametag and the patches on his uniform indicating his status as a sergeant, "None of those things touched me, but they sure as hell came close. I had an accident on the way over, but I'll be all right," he said trying to explain the bloody bandage wrapped around his head and the bruises and dried blood that covered his face.

"All right," the sergeant said lowering his tone of voice and then turned to David and another S.W.A.T. officer, "Get him inside. Tell Edward to go get Dr. Peltz, this guy looks like he needs some serious medical attention." The officer nodded and disappeared through the gates. Sgt. Foreman then returned his attention to Jake, "Come on kid, you're coming in."

Jake let out a small groan as David and the African-American officer began ushering him into the station's courtyard, the nameless rookie following close behind. He was instantly irritated by Sgt. Foreman, he did not like people assuming that he could not take care of himself. Most importantly, he did not like being referred to as "kid" because he was a fully grown man. He would have to put those thoughts at the back of his head for now as he was lead into a small courtyard where a small group of S.W.A.T. officers guarded the station's front entrance. To his left he spotted a grassy side route where several more officers had congregated for cigarette and meal breaks while keeping their weapons close by just in case another attack occurred. The view of the imposing station then regained his full attention as he was led to the massive blue steel doors where two guards were posted at each side of the entrance.

"Go right on through," one of the guards said pushing the doors open for the men and Jake found himself being led into the station's main lobby.

The young career criminal seriously found himself at a loss for words as he set foot in the grand foyer. Before him stood a large single room that looked like it belonged in an art museum. Eloquent marble tiles made up the floor beneath him and Roman pillars at the sides of the room held up the balconies above him which extended three stories high, giving off a feeling of elegance and in a way disguising some of the incidents that probably went down within the walls of this structure. Three steps led to a lower portion of the floor, where in the center stood a painting of the R.P.D.'s department insignia all officers proudly displayed on their uniforms. Standing above the painting was a fountain which had a statue of a young maiden holding a water jug as its centerpiece, something that shouldn't have belonged in a place like this. Behind it was a semi-circular shaped oak reception desk that had a computer console and telephone along with several small filing cabinets, fax machine, and an old-fashioned typewriter near its modern counterpart. In the center of the north wall stood a beautiful stained glass window which made the place almost look like a cathedral, a couple candles and a few pews along with a statue of Christ and the place would have been complete.

A number of police officers were present in this room as well, mostly posted around the doors on the first floor and guarding the lower portion of the first floor. Several more were present on the second floor balcony guarding strategic locations and trying to keep anxious civilians in the library where they were being held. Like on the outside, there were a few armed civilians standing amongst the police officers, including a few that even looked like criminals that had been dragged in off the street.

"Welcome to the R.P.D. Creepy, eh?" David whispered to Jake nudging him with his elbow as he witnessed the younger man's awestruck response to the main hall's grandeur.

Jake didn't respond and continued looking around at the other survivors present when the western door closest to the reception desk flew open and out came three officers who immediately made a move towards the African-American officer.

"Marvin, I got a hold of Dr. Peltz," one of the officers, a man in his late thirties with short brown hair spoke up to the black cop, "He's pretty busy with some other patients right now, but he promises to look at our new guest as soon as possible," the officer said, now turning to Jake and eyeing his blood-soaked garments closely.

"Great, just what I need...More waiting," Jake thought to himself as he looked back to the officer, "Edward" it said on his uniform, and then examined his two colleagues. The second man had short brown hair and stood around the same height as the officer who had just addressed "Marvin," and had a Remington shotgun hanging limply in his right hand, "Carlsen" his nametag read. A pained groan came from the last officer, who looked to be the worst of three. The man was covered from head to toe in filth with matted dirty red hair, bloodshot blue eyes, and several bandages on his arms. Through all of the dirt and grime, Jake managed to pick out the name "Ford" on his uniform. A Mossburg shotgun was held in the man's grubby hands and the career criminal noticed a small flask sticking out of his left pocket, probably one for alcohol he assumed.

Another door opened, this time from upstairs and the officers noticed people moving out of the way as an important looking man made his way to a portion of the balcony where an emergency ladder was positioned. He was a rotund man of medium height who appeared to be in his early fifties with short, slicked back brown hair and a matching mustache. His clothing suggested he was a higher-up as he wore dark navy dress slacks, dark brown loafers, a white dress shirt, dark black vest, and a red tie underneath.

"Lt. Branagh, what is the meaning of all this infernal racket outside? Can you not see that I am trying my best to keep order around here? I can't have that if you're going to be starting a war outside," the man's high-pitched voice boomed throughout the grand hall, frightening some of the civilians, but only inviting looks of disgust from the officers who had been forced to put up with his ranting on a daily basis.

"I'm sorry Chief, but we have a new survivor joining us. We were simply trying to fight off all the zombies that had followed him to keep this place safe," Marvin explained gesturing towards Jake.

The chief crossed his arms across his stocky chest and glared down upon the battered new arrival as if he were a hawk perched from high above looking to make his next catch, being the hapless survivor that stood beneath him, "Hmmm, I see you were able to make it this far in the madness surrounding us. I humbly applaud your efforts, fine sir. I will see to it that my officers accommodate your needs to the best of their abilities until this incident can be resolved," the chief spoke in a boastful, almost sardonic tone and quickly disappeared from sight.

Jake narrowed his eyes at the plump man and immediately wanted to bash his skull in. Looking around, the officers stared silently at the exiting chief and shared his same look of annoyance, he could tell right away that this "chief" was not a very well-liked individual by his subordinates.

"Who the hell does that fat prick think he is?" Jake half-shouted to the men around him.

"Brian Irons," Marvin said.

"Chief of the Raccoon Police Department and the biggest asshole known to man," David added.

Hearing that was almost humorous to the young man. Being a career criminal, he found himself surrounded by all sorts of strange and unusual characters who were supposed to be on the right side of the law, but this man took the cake. Just witnessing the way the man carried himself automatically gave off an impression that he was up to no good and had a lot of secrets to hide and he could feel the uneasiness permeating from the officers and civilians alike around him.

"Heh, to think the local government would actually let some unstable yahoo like that run a police department of all things? Just too hard to believe, I can smell the corruption on that pig from a mile away," Jake said to the officers.

"Well believe it my good man. With his usual "cheery" demeanor and his taste in artwork, let alone with him being able to even afford stuff like that, I'd say he has more than one screw loose and more than one skeleton in the closet. Too bad we have to go through shitloads upon shitloads of red tape to be able to pin anything on the fat bastard," David sighed as he felt the disgust of having to explain something as sinister as that to an outsider like Jake.

"The asshole's practically abandoned us when we needed him the most, leaving us to fend for ourselves while he spends half the time locked away in his cozy little office doing God knows what while we're out here getting slaughtered left and right," Marvin added. Random attacks had been occurring all around the city since the Spencer Estate incident back in July and all he had ever done was try to put on a pretty face for the media and say that the problem would soon be contained. It was all a load of bullshit and the horrors taking place outside the station's walls were a true testament to his lack of competence.

"He was acting like this long before all this crap started. Wouldn't surprise me a damn bit if he either blew his own brains out or started hunting down everybody else thinking they were all zombies," David replied as he remembered being told by Heather, the chief's new personal secretary, about a time when he burst into his office and verbally tore her apart as she was in the middle of straightening things up. The young S.W.A.T. officer truly felt great misfortune to be under the command of an unstable basketcase like Brian Irons ever since the beginning of his tenure with the R.P.D. A time like this only amplified those feelings by ten times, yet he knew he could not let that get him down.

"I wish the S.T.A.R.S. were still around. Man, those guys sure knew how to mess around with his head," Marvin chuckled inviting a small laugh from David.

"Yeah, what do you mean half the man you are? We're all half the man you are!" David said mimicking the voice of Joseph Frost, the late vehicle specialist of S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team who was a true comedian in every sense of the word and was always the best at getting under Chief Irons' skin. His impersonation brought laughter from the officers around him and even Jake found himself letting out a small chuckle, at least the tension had been lifted temporarily.

"Man, I didn't sign up to fight zombies and I certainly didn't sign up to put up with freak jobs like him," Eric spoke up for the first time addressing the officers around him.

"Yeah, hard to tell who's creepier," Elliott Edward laughed uneasily as he looked back to David Ford, who stared back at him with a cold, almost death-like stare. 

David Ford had been through Hell and back the past few days and the physical wear and tear on his body was beginning to show from all of it. In the past week he had already visited several crime scenes where the gruesome homicides had been perpetrated and had seen many images that have forever haunted him. Hours ago he was present at the Main St. barricade fighting alongside his fellow officers when seemingly hundreds of zombies made their initial attack, tearing through the heavily-armed officers like they were nothing and he would witness more horrific deaths as the zombies devoured his comrades like they were the main course at an all you can eat buffet. Next to him in all of the fighting was R.P.D. marksman Arthur Meyer, who suggested that they make a break for the station and he followed without question. The man hated himself for leaving all his comrades to die and now his selfishness was coming back to haunt him, it would sting even more as he thought of Meyer.

Meyer had led him through a back alley trying to take a shortcut back to the station when more zombies would appear and try to make David into their next meal. The marksman saw his teammate's predicament and rushed back to save the man, but when it came time for David to return the favor, he ran off like the coward he had turned out to be. He winced as he could still hear the sounds of Meyer's dying cries and the sound of his flesh being stripped from his body.

Right now the man carried two close friends on him, the first being the Mossberg shotgun held in his hands. That gun had become a close friend of his tonight and he had already turned quite a few zombies into fertilizer with it. The second was the bottle of whiskey he tried poorly to conceal in his pocket. Although it had helped temporarily dull the pain, it was also causing him to delve further into his madness and soon the bottle would be empty. When the last drop had finally been consumed there was no telling what would go down and frankly he saw nothing else beyond the bottle.

"Marvin! Elliott!" a feminine voice called out.

Jake and the officers turned to find a short blonde haired woman officer now entering the hall and making her way towards the officers.

"What is it Wilcox?" Marvin asked looking down to the smaller woman.

"I just talked to Dr. Peltz, you'd better get your friend up here as soon as you can. He's getting low on supplies and other patients are starting to take a turn for the worse. We'll need more available guys around to help guard them," the woman explained.

"Crap..." Marvin muttered and then turned to Jake, "Come on friend, we'd better get you up there right away!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake tried to relax the best he could as he reclined backwards on the small bench that barely fit his six foot three inch length. Dr. Ethan Peltz stood over the tall man applying some antiseptics to the back of his injured head, while a young female officer with shoulder-length dark red hair stood over him gently dabbing the bruises on his face he had received from his fight with Nemesis with a warm rag and inspecting the tissues that had been used to plug his bleeding nostrils.

It seemed like a lifetime since he had been able to lay back and relax with everything that had been going on around him. To think that he had actually been relaxing in a police station of all places, where in the past he would be left in a cold dark cell held behind iron bars that restricted his movement, the thought actually made him stop and study his new surroundings and the present goings-on.

The room he currently was present in had originally been the station's cafeteria, but with all the injured civilians and officers piling up around the station and for its availability of open space, the room had been converted into a makeshift infirmary where Dr. Peltz along with several paramedics and nurses from Raccoon General worked side by side with the police officers tending to their wounded and dying colleagues and any civilians who had been unfortunate enough to be injured in this kind of scenario. Tables around the room were being used as crude hospital beds where several injured officers were sprawled across their hard wooden surfaces crying out in pain from zombie bites they had received or from friendly fire wounds they had sustained in the firefights outside trying to defend their city from the ravenous cannibals that had methodically overtaken it

In another darkened corner of the room laid several bodies all covered with bloody white sheets that had been carefully arranged so no limbs were sticking out from underneath. Jake watched as two S.W.A.T. officers carried another dead officer's body over to the pile and gently laid the man's corpse onto a clean patch of tile and another quickly appeared with a white sheet and carefully arranged it over the dead body. The three officers then stood up and bowed their heads in homage to their fallen comrade. They must have known the man would never receive a proper burial, but they would do what they could to honor his memory.

Everything looked like it was straight out of a scene from an old war movie the career criminal thought to himself as he listened to the frightening cries of the wounded around him and the panicked commands being shouted left and right amongst the officers and paramedics as they rushed back and forth across the room doing what they could to save the dying people entrusted to them. Deep down Jake wanted to wish the best for these people, but he knew that they were fighting an uphill battle unless one of these doctors could whip up a miracle cure right on the spot. The bitten patients were of the most concern and if something wasn't done about them quickly then the officers would be fighting them and getting torn apart from the inside out. The career criminal couldn't do anything about it right now because he knew he would risk causing more mayhem amongst the already frightened civilians and draw a possible fight with the officers.

"All right," Dr. Peltz spoke as Jake could feel him fastening the fresh bandage around his head, "You sustained some scraping from that fall you took on the concrete, nothing too serious fortunately. Some seriously bruising will be present though and your head will be sore for quite awhile. I've given you some morphine for the pain and I've applied some first-aid spray to help seal up your wounds more rapidly. Take it easy for a few hours and let the medicine run its course. They've set up a rest area for survivors in the station library. I'm sure you might be able to get some shut eye up there, maybe even find somebody you know," the good doctor explained as he and the officer helped Jake sit upright.

"Thanks Doc, you helped a lot. You've helped me all you could and now you might as well focus on helping whoever you can," Jake said as he shook the man's hand and slowly rose back to his feet.

"Doc, get your ass over here quick! My buddy's bleeding pretty bad!" the biker named Ace called out. The big man stood at a table near the vending machines where a tall, pot-bellied man with long, greasy, curly dark brown hair and a braided beard writhed in pain from shrapnel embedded in his side and had to be restrained by a nurse and paramedic.

Ethan Peltz said nothing and rushed over to the table to see what he could do for the big man. The man's bald head was covered by a sheen of sweat and the labcoat he wore showed sweat stains under his arms suggesting that he had been moving around a lot within the last few hours and physical wear and tear showed on his face. He looked like he was about ready to collapse, but the man was driven by a desire to do whatever he could for his patients that kept him awake and moving. The three people surrounding the wounded biker made way for the doctor and he quickly slipped on a pair of latex gloves as he went to check the man's wounds.

Fortunately, the biker's wounds appeared to be inflicted only by shrapnel and not a bite from one of the zombies outside. However, Jake looked around and saw several other people present around the room that showed signs of being bitten and he could only hope that the S.W.A.T. troopers and uniformed officers present would be able to hold them off if they were to suddenly turn. For certain, he did not want to be present when that happened and he began towards the exit, weaving past several rushing paramedics and past the scene of another death as an officer tried in vain to resuscitate his bitten comrade.

Jake pushed through the wooden doors and into a crowded hallway where several officers rushed back and forth with weapons raised in case another attack were to occur. Several civilians sat huddled together in small groups on the many benches along the walls either bawling their eyes out in despair or speaking to each other in hushed tones as their fragile minds tried to process the madness going on around them. The officers were no better off as they stood at their assigned posts looking grimly to one another as they clutched their weapons in shaking, clammy hands and some of whom looking like they wanted to fall asleep at their posts. Turning a corner in the hall, he came across a mother sobbing hysterically as she held her two small children close by, both of whom were too young and innocent to comprehend the violence going on around them. Not too far away was a lone young man probably a few years older than the criminal himself who held a picture of a young woman in hand muttering unintelligible phrases to himself, probably a wife or girlfriend he had lost in the massacre. An older couple sat near the out of service payphones holding each other closely and telling each other how much they loved one another and a young couple that could have been a shadow of the older couple in their former years not too far away, but would never live to reach the old age of those before them. Those would be heartbreaking sights to anybody, but sadly nothing could be done for them, then again Jake was in no position to worry, it wasn't his job to protect these people.

The sound of hammers striking lumber filled the air as soon as Jake stepped into the next hall, a filthy tan colored hallway which held entrances to the station's press room, interrogation room, observation room, and east wing homicide division offices. Officers hammered away trying to blockade the many broken windows in the long hallway with whatever they could find ranging from ordinary wooden boards to discarded doors and dismantled tables and chairs. The officers standing guard immediately met the career criminal with wary gazes and held their weapons ready, but would immediately back down after he did nothing hostile for several minutes and then went back to doing what they were before. He could understand their tension and probably would have done the same thing if he were in their shoes he thought to himself as he walked on and made his way towards the library. The hike towards the station's library was a fairly long one moving through several rooms which contained much of the same activity he had seen before with officers and civilians running around performing numerous errands and slightly hampering his progress as he sought to reach what was to be the safest place in the station.

After a trip that took him through the main hall, first floor waiting room, several side west wing hallways, a hall containing the S.T.A.R.S. office, and another lounge area, he had finally reached the library entrance which had been heavily guarded and he would have to submit to a full body search before he would be permitted to enter.

The station library had been yet another eloquent room within the fortress-like structure that gave off more of either an art museum or Victorian mansion vibe and certainly did not belong in a modernized police station. Several S.W.A.T. officers stood along the upper walkway ready to strike down from above in the event of an attack and a few uniform division officers armed with shotguns and submachine guns stood guard at the set of double doors leading out onto the second floor balcony of the main hall, including a few who stood around a balding middle-aged man in a stained business suit who had an attractive young blonde woman in a white party dress clutching onto his arm. On the lower floor there had been plenty of cots and blankets set up for survivors along with food rations and medical kits for their other needs. Altogether there were about forty-something survivors in the room not counting other civilians that had been present throughout the station.

Something brushed against his coat and the career criminal looked down to find a short blonde, pre-teen girl dressed in a sailor outfit standing below him. Horror filled her cerulean blue orbs as she finally realized that she had bumped the gruff man a little too hard and took in how much he towered over her. She opened her mouth to speak and squeaked out a quick "Sorry mister!"

Jake grunted and gave a quick nod to the little girl and watched her retreat to a darkened corner where a few youngsters conversed amongst themselves trying to aid each other through their distress. Strangely enough, as the girl went on her way, the career criminal noticed an Asian woman with short, stylishly cut black hair and wearing a red cocktail dress staring intently at the small girl as if she knew her. He quickly pushed any further thoughts from his mind as he noticed a familiar group of people congregated at the back of the room.

In a small clearing he spotted David, Eric, and Denise seated on some cots relaxing with a small group of people. Eric and Denise shared a cot, while David sat across from them next to a young woman who appeared to be in her early twenties with long, curly dark brown hair and wearing a lavender sweater and black jeans. Standing near Eric and Denise's cot was a young, lanky officer who appeared to be a rookie with short brown hair in a bowl cut and wearing large wire-rimmed glasses. He wore the same kind of uniform as Eric and held a Browning HP in his right hand. At the center of the group sat a sobbing Donald, who in his arms held a wailing black woman. The young criminal decided to find out what was going on and approached the group.

David turned his head to see Jake walking towards him, "Hey man, come join us!" he called out waving the career criminal over to the gathering. 

He walked over and removed his heavy trenchcoat taking a seat next to David and leaned over close to the young S.W.A.T. officer, "What happened to him?" he asked about Donald.

"The zombies..." David quietly muttered, "We hauled in some joggers off the streets who had been bitten and while Doc Peltz was treating them, they suddenly transformed...One of Donald's kids was nearby and got bitten. Not only that, those rotting fucks tore apart his other kids...And then the kid that got bit, Elijah, he turned into one of those things and tried to kill his mom." David's head suddenly sagged as he struggled to finish his sentence, "He had to be put down...I had to put him down..." the man spoke turning his face towards Jake, his eyes watering like he was going to burst into tears.

"Fuck..." Jake quietly swore. That information was even too much for him and he sat back in shock.

"I know man, I've probably killed half the people I've known in this city over the years all in one night," David sighed, running his fingers through his short brown hair and bringing his head up a little as he stared at the wooden floor beneath him.

"David, you have to pull yourself together," the woman next to him said placing a hand on his arm and gently rubbing his shoulder with the other, "None of this is your fault, it's someone else's. You didn't kill all those innocent people out there, they did. You might not be able to save these people, but you can bring whoever did this to them to justice, that's all you've been going on about since I met you out on that street just hours ago. If you have the drive, you can do it," she nodded assuringly and then turned to Jake.

"And who might you be?" Jake asked.

"Samantha, Samantha Russell," she spoke offering her hand to Jake, "I'm a student here in Raccoon. I was trying to escape from all this madness when the outbreak occurred. I was running through the streets when I found David, Donald, and Denise. They told me they had been traveling around in some delivery truck that crashed after the driver was freaking out and trying to dodge all the zombies. Not long after that, we found Eric and then wound up here."

"Man, I knew that fat pig Dario would either get all of you killed or come close to it," Jake grumbled as he thought about how he was left to die by the fat coward, "He almost got me killed. He'd better be thankful he got separated from the rest of you, or else I would've killed him myself," he growled patting at the magnum held in his shoulder holster.

"I wouldn't blame you," Denise added, "We were just two blocks away from the station when we crashed and the place was full of zombies. We tried to get him to stay with us, but he took off. Probably zombie chow by now..." she spat bitterly.

Upon hearing that last sentence, Donald immediately looked up and his sad, watery eyes gave way to a look of anger, forcing her to shut up. The lanky officer moved over to the grieving couple and quietly spoke to them offering solace.

Jake looked around the room trying to pick out the exact number of survivors present when his gaze met that of Eric's, who had been doing the same, "Is this all there is here?"

Eric stared back quietly surprised that a civilian would ask him of all people, a rookie who had arrived in town for what was supposed to be his first day on the job only to find himself in a living nightmare, a question like that and what he did not know the exact answer for, only from what he had heard from the other officers around the station. "To tell the truth, I don't know. From what I heard around, there were a lot more who had made it, like over a hundred, but some reporter guy named Ben came through claiming he knew a way out through the sewers. He said there was some exit through a manhole in the station's kennels and a bunch of people tried to make a break for it, but none of them came back. The guy was causing too much trouble so they locked him up down in the cells. Sounds like a serious whack job, saying that a major company is behind all of this bullshit going on, but he won't say exactly who."

Jake needed no explanation, he knew right away who was behind all of this madness and he had nearly gotten himself killed plenty of times tonight in an attempt to take out one of their most important scientists.

"Umbrella..."

"What?" Eric asked leaning closer towards Jake.

"Nothing, it's nothing," he said as he looked around the room hoping to divert the officer's attention and saw that many of the survivors present were actually managing to fall asleep in this nightmare, surprising since none of them seemed to possess the mental strength Jake did and would probably be unable to sleep a wink in a situation like this he thought to himself. Watching everybody else fall asleep around him then made the career criminal remember how tired he had been when he first reached the police station and his eyelids started to feel very heavy once again.

"Dude, I've been fighting countless monsters throughout this entire city all night long and my head is killing me. I've gotta get some fucking sleep or else my head is going to blow up on me," Jake said as he lazily reached down to untie his shoes and then slowly removed his belt which held his ammo and other small items. Plopping himself down on one of the cots he pulled his magnum from its holster and placed it under his pillow and carefully lowered himself onto the brittle mattress.

Before he knew it, sleep had quickly overcome the young man and he drifted off to Dreamland for the first time in ages and all he could do was reflect, reflect upon another major battle that had occurred in the past.

A/N: To satisfy my loyal readers I have once again completed a chapter of "Darkness Arises" for your viewing pleasure. As I finish this latest chapter, while I was on my forced "break," I managed to play some more of the highly enjoyable Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas and am nearing completion of the fine masterpiece. Playing further through the game has also given me ideas for another possible GTA fic about a bunch of oddball gangs spawning all over San Andreas, post in-game storyline, to challenge the Grove Street Families for supremacy. Then again, I am just coming up with ideas so it could be awhile before you see anything on that front. Take care, read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/ 


	16. Chapter 14: Flashbacks of a Final Battle

Darkness Arises by E-Z B

Author's Note: Hey all, what's up? I bring you the latest installment of "Darkness Arises" and in this next chapter(s), I am going to give many of my loyal readers something they have been begging for for quite sometime, a flashback of a major event that occurred in Jake's past. I warn you though that this one chapter might be sub-divided into more than one chapter because I have so many ideas for what will go on in this chapter and it will span more than a day, I might be looking at 3 to be exact. Nonetheless it will make sense of some past events so I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 14: Flashbacks of a Final Battle, Pt. 1: Capping The Cartel

Vice City, late 1997

Tommy Vercetti let out a heavy sigh as he laid back in his comfy leather chair and began rubbing his temples. He could feel another headache coming on that would soon mutate into a full-blown migraine. The man had been under a lot of stress for the past few weeks and rightfully so. 

His empire, the very criminal empire he had taken over eleven years earlier and restructured into his own image was under attack by an outside force that had appeared from out of nowhere and was looking to make its mark in Vice at his expense. These outsiders had already shown that they had meant business by attacking several of his assets around town, killing several of his henchmen, and threatening his top associates present all over the city. Ever since he had taken over he had managed to wipe out most of his competition within the city aside from a few skirmishes with the Haitians and the Sharks, but these new guys had been able to strike twice as hard as either one of the former gangs ever could in a matter of weeks than they could in the last eleven years, and judging by the kind of weapons and vehicles they had, this new gang must have had powerful backing and was more than just some ordinary street gang.

This new organization first appeared on the scene four weeks ago when a group of four South American individuals were found accosting the dancers at the Pole Position strip club Tommy owned. Security guards were immediately dispatched to deal with the men, but when approached, they pulled out AK-47 assault rifles and made quick work of the guards and claimed that they were new in town and were here to send a message to Mr. Vercetti.

Just having the balls to walk into one of Tommy Vercetti's establishments and gun down his employees greatly angered the crimelord and deeply disturbed him at the same time. He was not a man to be messed with and if he found out who you were, chances were you would be sleeping with the fishes by the end of the night.

The incident down at the Pole Position was not the end as the next day an explosives-rigged cab was parked and detonated near a building site belonging to Avery Carrington's construction company. Upon further examination, the cab turned out to be from Kaufman Cabs, Tommy's company. The next day, there was a drive-by attack on the popular Malibu club Tommy also owned, followed by the severed head of one of Tommy's best henchmen being left on the front doorstep of his palatial estate. The day after that, several high-performance sports cars were stolen from Sunshine Autos and a Mr. Whoopee van from the Cherry Popper ice cream factory was blown up on one of its runs. A couple days later, there was a bloody shootout between the mysterious men and Vercetti's henchmen, resulting in heavy losses amongst his own men.

Random attacks followed and Tommy's men found themselves having to look over their shoulders constantly for any suspicious looking individuals. All they knew about their assailants was that they appeared to be of Central American descent, probably Colombian, often dressed alike wearing ten-gallon hats, snakeskin cowboy boots, blue jeans, and Hawaiian shirts, drove around in customized blue 4x4 pickups, and their trademark weapon appeared to be the AK-47 assault rifle.

Not only were the members of this mysterious organization slaughtering his men left and right, but they were also dealing a new drug on the streets called SPANK and it with all the negative side effects it caused on the locals, it was becoming a serious threat to Tommy's businesses and unchallenged his grip he had held on the city for years.

About a week ago, a possible lead arose from the madness when some of his best agents captured a member of the organization and after a brutal torture session they finally got the man to disclose that he was working for a group known as the Colombian Cartel and that they had come to Vice City to take over and had mini-bases set up all over the city so they could strike at any time, however, he died from the wounds inflicted upon him before he could get into any specifics. They now had a name, but no known bases of operations.

Laying his head back he spun around in his chair and looked out the wall-length plate glass window and looked out beyond the grounds of Starfish Island over to Washington Beach where he had gathered many other assets over the course of the eleven years he had been in power and then thought to himself about his not-so humble beginnings in Vice.

Originally from Liberty City, Tommy Vercetti grew up in the rough, working class neighborhood of Harwood, born to a printer who worked for the Liberty Tree newspaper and his homemaker wife. The young man grew up in a time of great bloodshed as the peace-loving older leaders of the traditional mob families began to gradually die off and were replaced by young power hungry heirs who sought to assert their dominance in Portland, while at the same time clashing with Chinese and Hispanic street gangs that were starting to make names for themselves on the island as well.

A troublemaker since his youth, Tommy was an adventurous, yet troublesome youth known for his assertive nature and quick temper, who was in and out of trouble with the law since his early teens and like many youngsters with his thirst for power and money he was easily drawn into a life of crime and went to work for the Forelli Family Mafia at an early age as an errand boy, usually pulling smaller jobs like car thefts, robberies, and extortion.

At first, he worked for Marco Forelli, a Sicilian native who had come to America in the early 20's as a dirt poor farmboy, but thanks to his driven and ruthless nature, was now the head of a criminal empire specializing in extortion, prostitution, protection, counterfeiting, and gun running operations, they were second only to their former allies in the Leone Family Mafia. Things would be like this for the first three years of Tommy's tenure with the family, until one day when the elder Forelli was assassinated by an unknown gunman while away on business in Las Venturas. The family would then be taken over by Santino "Sonny" Forelli, the eldest son of Don Forelli and a close childhood friend of Tommy's with whom he had performed several smaller jobs with in the past. Young and ambitious, Sonny was eager to make his mark in Liberty, unlike his father however, he lacked the patience and mental stability and tended to make an example of out failures. Nevertheless, Tommy was proud to work for his friend and believed that his close association with the new Don would one day help his own rise to power.

However, things would take an unexpected turn one cold autumn night in 1971, when the young cleaner received orders to eliminate a member of the rival Leone Family who had been plotting to kill Sonny and several top-ranking Forelli Family members. Armed with his shotgun, Tommy stormed a small restaurant the man used as his hideout, in the process killing ten other men as well. Unfortunately for Tommy, a woman who was with the rival gang member had slipped out and alerted the authorities, resulting in Tommy's arrest.

The incident was front page news and Tommy was dubbed by press as the "Harwood Butcher" and sentenced to numerous life terms for the murders, never to return to the streets again.

Fifteen long years would pass before a legal loophole would allow Tommy to be released from prison, but before he could go back to living a normal life Sonny had one final job for him.

Teamed with a crooked lawyer named Ken Rosenberg, Tommy and two other Forelli family associates were ordered to make a drug deal down at the city docks when they were attacked by unknown gunmen and forced to flee. The incident would leave Tommy and Ken alone with nothing and a very enraged mob boss breathing down their necks. It was a rough time and the former Forelli Family cleaner had his back against the wall, but he knew what he had to do and instead of gathering up the money to give back to Sonny, aided by his trusty sidekick he would take over Vice City himself.

Aligning himself with top figures in the Vice City criminal underworld, Tommy would tear his own brutal path through the streets of Vice City and before long, aided by a flashy newcomer named Lance Vance, the two men would rub out coke baron Ricardo Diaz and take over his estate. Claiming several properties around the city as his own it was almost certain that he had risen to the top and taken over all of Vice City.

Sonny however, was not finished with his former employee and decided to pay him a little "visit" and see how he was doing. Tommy knew of Sonny's planned visit and tried to turn over counterfeit money made by the local printworks, but an inside source had informed the Forelli overlord of the hoax.

That inside source was none other than Lance Vance himself, who felt that Tommy wasn't giving him his fair share of the profits and wanted to get even. In the end, the traitor would pay for his betrayal with his own life and was followed closely by Sonny, who had fallen after receiving a fatal shot to the head.

Ever since that fateful day, Tommy Vercetti had reigned supreme over all of the city and his rule was unquestioned until recently when the Cartel made its presence felt.

"Tommy, what the fuck are we going to do? Are you even paying attention to me?"

Ken Rosenberg's whiny voice broke the coke baron's concentration and he swirled around to find the former lawyer and casino manager pacing back and forth nervously like he always did when he was under stress, which was most of the time over the smallest things.

"Those damned Cartel are all over the fucking place and they're killing our boys left and right! Just yesterday, they killed two of our guys on a routine patrol through Little Havana and then killed another investigating a disturbance down at your boatyard! I swear to the fucking heavens we can't stick our heads out for a single second without all those freaks taking shots at us left and right! For Pete's sake, I might as well just paint a fucking bullseye on my back! Everytime I try to stick my head out, fate has to find it necessary to shovel shit in my face and then yank me out by the trousers, throw me in the gutter of life, and then take a huge piss on me! Dammit, I left San Andreas to get away from this crap and now I come here for a surprise visit and I find myself in this mess again! Oh god, I should've just let Sal Leone give me some cement shoes and drop me in the ocean!"

"Ken, will you shut the fuck up for five seconds!" Tommy shouted, bringing the former lawyer's incoherent ramblings to an abrupt halt, "I'm not going to die and you're not going to die! I swear on the graves of those men who have served under me that I will find those Cartel bastards and make each and every single one of those shitheads pay for what they've done to me and my people!"

Just then, a knock came at the office door and Tommy quickly regained his composure and returned to his seat, "Come in!"

The door slowly opened and in walked two young men. First to enter the room was a tall, dark-haired young man dressed entirely in black named Jake Cavanaugh, a young career criminal who had been serving him for the last five months and was already quickly proving himself to be one of the coke baron's top errand boys with his flawless record.

The man entering the room behind Jake was slightly older than him and about an inch shorter than his 6' 3" counterpart, but he had a stocky build that made him look twice as muscular and intimidating. He had short black hair trimmed in a crewcut with a small goatee and thin mustache on his brutish-looking face. He wore a black leather jacket with a viper design on the back, green cargo pants, black fingerless gloves, and black and white sneakers. This man was Tyler Denton, better known to his associates as "Viper," an equally violent criminal with a record as long as Jake's who had been a friend of the former's for years and was like a brother to him.

Viper recently re-appeared in his best friend's life two weeks ago to save the man from a Cartel hit squad as he exited his apartment in the Washington Beach district. Jake turned out to have had a feud with the Colombian Cartel stemming from his time in Liberty City after being sucked in thanks to his association with wanted criminal Claude Speed, a man who himself had delivered several critical blows to the Cartel when he destroyed one of their major SPANK factories aboard a ship in Portland Harbor, killed their leader Catalina at the Cochrane Dam, and killed one third of their men on his murderous rampages. The Cartel came to view Jake as guilty by association and tried to kill him several times before it would take the combined efforts of Jake, Claude, and their Yakuza allies to run the gang from the city and additional work to rid the streets of their SPANK. (A/N: I know in my prologue chapter I refer to the main character from Grand Theft Auto 3 as Matt Logan, but that was written a long time before "GTA: San Andreas" came out so naturally I didn't know back then. I get the name "Claude" from the San Andreas guidebook and the name "Speed" is something that I've seen several other authors use on the Grand Theft Auto forum. Therefore, in any possible future references to him, he will be referred to as "Claude Speed.")

"Mr. Vercetti, you wanted to see us?" Jake asked entering the room and walking up to Tommy's desk and then looked over to see Ken sitting on a nearby couch looking like he had just seen a ghost.

"Yes, Jake, Viper, I'm glad you could join us. Ken and I were just having a little "discussion" regarding all the Cartel B.S. that's been going on. Unless you've been living in a cave for the last four weeks, you would notice that those shitheads from the Colombian Cartel are here in Vice trying to make a name for themselves at my expense. I have to give it to them that they have indeed given me a run for my money, but nobody, and I repeat NOBODY messes with Tommy Vercetti and gets away with it," the crimelord growled slamming his fist on his desk, causing Ken to let out a horrified yelp and jump backwards.

"I hear you on that Mr. V.," Viper said crossing his arms and leaning towards the desk, "I'm guessing you called us here for that reason then."

"Exactly," Tommy said standing up and walking over to the two henchmen, "My sources have informed me that the Cartel might possibly try to send a hit squad to one of my assets somewhere in the city to finish the job. I cannot let that happen as it would affect my business," Tommy then walked up behind the two men and placed a hand on each of their shoulders, "...and it would affect your jobs as well, which is why I have requested your presence."

Tommy then walked over to his desk and pulled out a map from the center drawer and began pointing to marked areas on the map, "From what I heard, these supposed Cartel hit squads were planning to attack sometime around the weekend. Today is Saturday, meaning they could possibly strike at any moment," he then made notes of areas on the map which included InterGlobal Films, Kaufman Cabs, the boatyard, Pole Position strip club, the Malibu, the printworks factory, Sunshine Autos, the Cherry Popper ice cream factory, several lesser hotels, and all of Tommy's hideouts he had purchased upon his rise to power. Several other lesser locations were marked down as well, including the Greasy Chopper where Tommy's ally "Big" Mitch Baker hung out, Cafe Robina which belonged to his ally Umberto Robina, the weapons dealership that had once been Phil's Place in Little Haiti now ran by another wartime buddy of his, the V-ROCK station, and several other locations around the city that were either aligned with the coke baron or were on the list for his "protection" racket.

An electronic ringing was then heard and Tommy would pull out his cellular phone and motion for everybody to remain silent.

"Hello?" he asked, "Oh, Mr. Kelly, what's up?"

Both men knew the name, that of Earnest Kelly, the man old gentleman who was in charge down at the Vercetti Printworks.

"Wait, wait!" Tommy suddenly called out, "Earnest, you have to slow down! I can't understand you...What?"

The sudden change of tone in his employer's voice had Jake standing on end and he stood straightened anxious to find out what was happening on the other end of the line.

"They did what! Jesus Christ! Okay, don't move! I'll send some of my guys down to check things out," Tommy calmly pressed the power button on the phone and patiently listened for the device to turn off before he tossed it across the room and smirked as it shattered into bits and pieces. He noticed his three associates standing around with questioning stares on their faces.

Tommy calmed himself down for a few moments before speaking "I'm sorry for that little display of unnecessary aggression, but those Cartel fucks are at it again. That was Mr. Kelly from the print shop. Apparently those bastards decided to pay him a visit and worked him and his men over real well," he then stopped and turned his attention over to Jake and Viper, "This is where you two will come in."

Jake and Viper both stood at attention, "All right, what do you want us to do?"

Mr. Vercetti straightened out his tie and cleared his throat, "I want both of you to go down to the print shop right away and check on Mr. Kelly. After that, I want you to hunt down every single one of those Cartel shitheads and kill them all. They need to be sent a message that Tommy Vercetti is not laying down for anybody. I don't care if you have to shoot them, run them over, or pummel them to death. Do you gentlemen get my drift?"

"We hear you loud and clear, Mr. Vercetti," Viper said punching his right fist into his open left palm.

Jake nodded, "I'm in. Those Cartel assholes obviously don't know when to give up, well they're about to learn!"

"Good. Just watch out for the pigs though!" Tommy instructed as he dismissed both men.

Viper closed the door behind them and looked over to his best friend, "You ready to do this, man?"

"Hell yeah," Jake replied, "Those greasy bastards tried to kill me plenty of times back in Liberty. Like the saying goes, payback's a bitch motherfucker!" the young career criminal finished as the two men touched their right fists together and made their way to the mansion's armory.

The estate armory was packed with enough guns and ammunition to supply an entire army for weeks at an end, which was especially important for the Vercetti Empire to remain in power. Already equipped with a Beretta 9mm. handgun, Jake grabbed an S&W M629C magnum, combat knife, MP5 submachine gun, and five hand grenades, while Viper grabbed his own Beretta 9mm. along with a SPAS-12 combat shotgun, Colt M-4 assault rifle, and some hand grenades of his own.

Within moments, the two men were already in a sleek white Acura Infernus that had been the trademark vehicle of the Vercetti gang and were peeling down the street with Jake behind the wheel and blaring tunes from the local V-Rock radio station.

"Man, these Cartel bums sure don't know when to quit," Viper said looking out the window at as the fashionable mansions of Starfish Island were replaced by small shops and ramshackle huts of Little Havana and was also careful to take note of a few Haitian gang members wandering around, a perennial adversary of the Vercetti Empire who had attacked the two men on several occasions just for being associated with Tommy.

"Tell me about it, I swear I've already wasted more down here in one week than I ever did back in Liberty," Jake chuckled as he pulled to a stoplight and then stared quietly at a police car in the lane next to them. For once in his life he didn't feel like attracting police attention, but was aware that he probably would eventually so he didn't want to be caught off-guard.

The light turned green and the high performance sports car moved down the street as fast as Jake could legally take it before he took a left onto a side street he had memorized from an updated map of Vice and began to pick up speed as he noticed that it was more desolate in this part.

"Whatever you do, be ready to fight," Jake advised his friend as he took an illegal turn into an alleyway that would get them there faster.

"D'uh! As if I haven't heard that one a million times," Viper rolled his eyes as he kept a hand on his Beretta. He was himself a hardened veteran of numerous battles on the streets with rival gangs and law enforcement. He didn't need to have his best friend, a man whom he had to save plenty of times in the past, spell things out for him like he was a small child.

"No shit!" Jake replied as he turned onto a main street and cut off a Perennial carrying an old couple.

"So did you get the chance to catch that new Candy Suxx video yet?" Viper asked suddenly changing the subject. Despite his tough guy nature, he always liked to lighten the mood before going into an impending battle to ease the tension. It didn't always sit well with Jake, who liked to go into a battle with an unwavering focus, but yet he tolerated it for everything his friend had done for him in the past.

"Dude, I thought she was retired. Last I heard, I thought she had a run-in with some guy hung like a walrus and was never the same again," the career criminal laughed as he remembered seeing some of the washed up porn actress' more famous works and had even had the chance to meet her in person along with her director Steve Scott and frequent co-star Mercedes Cortez while down in Vice, the latter of whom was the daughter of a powerful South American colonel and business associate of Mr. Vercetti's who had been forced to flee the country in '86 after a debacle with the French government.

"Nah, she made a comeback recently. Heard it took a lot of therapy though," he said resting his head on the head rest behind him.

"Yeah, can never have enough women," Jake shot back, remembering the number of prostitutes he had gone through during his time in both Liberty and Vice City.

"Heh heh, yeah. We should go to the Pole Position and celebrate once we get this mess cleared up."

"Yeah," Jake replied as a classic Love Fist song came on the radio. "There!" he suddenly called out as he spotted the Vercetti Printworks from a distance and gunned the accelerator, speeding past traffic and pedestrians until he pulled into the parking lot of a seemingly empty warehouse and skidded to a violent halt that nearly sent Viper through the windshield.

"Damn, watch it!" Viper shouted, but Jake ignored him.

Jake carefully pulled out his Beretta 9mm. and quietly opened his door, pointing his gun in every possible direction for any signs of life, but there didn't appear to be any.

"Come on!" he half-shouted as he quietly shut his door behind him and scanned the area carefully for any unseen attackers before making his way towards a metal utility door and quickly moved inside.

The two men stepped inside only to find a bloodbath. The bodies of dead employees were sprawled all over the main floor, shot to death by high-powered assault rifles. Several other employees had been wounded and were being tended to by a few workers who had managed to escape the incident unharmed.

"Man, these men didn't just get worked over," Viper commented at the sight of the carnage, "They got fucking slaughtered!"

Jake stared at the aftermath of a massacre where several regular employees had become caught in the crossfire of a gang-related hit. Despite being a hardened criminal, if there was one thing he did not believe in, it was dragging innocent bystanders into the middle of his messes.

"Are you those two guys the boss sent?" a gruff, elderly voice called out.

The two hired guns turned to find a small old man being led towards them being supported by a much younger employee. The man's glasses were broken and his face and clothes were covered in dried blood. He looked up towards the two men wincing in pain as if it hurt him to even look upwards.

"Yeah, we are. I'm Jake and that's Viper. We both work for Mr. Vercetti and he sent us down here to see what the hell was going on. Now please tell us what the hell just happened here?" Jake spoke as he stared down the smaller man, noticing how the employee supporting him was visibly unnerved by Jake's appearance.

Earnest Kelly shrugged painfully, "Well I was coming out to check and see how the boys were doing when these four tough guys with Spanish accents and AK-47's came in and started harrassing my employees and messing up the machinery. I tried to make them stop, but they only laughed at me and started shooting. They killed a lot of the boys and then demanded to know where the vault was and I told them I didn't know. Next thing I know, they threw me around and took turns beating the shit out of me and then next thing I know everything went dark and that's all I can remember," the old printer explained, feeling like he was giving an eyewitness testimony to the police.

"Okay, do you have any idea where they were heading off to?" he asked staring towards Viper.

"I have no clue, son," he replied staring down at the blood-drenched floor, "Right before I blacked out, I could remember hearing them say something about "other places," like this was only the first stop on a tour or something. They took all the money out of the shop's vault in the back, seems like they knew what they were doing," he shrugged as he looked back towards his office.

"Shit, they could mean the boss' other assets," Viper cut in suddenly and pulled out his assault rifle, startling all of the surviving workers.

"Yeah, those bastards must be trying to rob Mr. Vercetti blind this time!" Jake shouted pulling out his submachine gun and turned to face Mr. Kelly, "Okay, this is the Colombian Cartel's doing Mr. Kelly. It looks like they're not going to stop with the print shop."

"Fuck...They could be halfway around the city by now. They probably sent a bunch of guys to more than one location too, they could be bleeding the boss dry as we speak!" Viper added.

"Dammit, that'll be too much ground to cover for just the two of us. We'll have to get a hold of Tommy and tell him to send some of his guys to all of his businesses around the city. Until then, we might have to pay a visit to the Malibu, that's where he keeps most of his money."

Viper nodded and pulled out his cell phone. Right away he managed to get Tommy on the phone and told him that it was indeed the Cartel's doing and that he had better send his men all over the city. Jake turned his attention back to Mr. Kelly and his employees, "Get Dr. Sneed on the phone right away! Tell him to send the paramedics down here!" he shouted making reference to Tommy's personal physician who would treat him if he had been injured while performing his "errands."

"Crap!" Viper shouted loudly which attracted stares from everybody in the room, "The boss says the Cartel is all over the place and they're hitting him pretty bad at all of his assets! He's trying to get a hold of Umberto and his gang and "Big" Mitch and the bikers, but hasn't been able to yet."

"Fuck! Come on, we have to go!" Jake shouted and then turned back to Mr. Kelly again, "Wait here, and don't let anybody leave!"

"Man, the Cartel moves faster than the plague around here, you'd better let me drive this time!" Viper told Jake as the two criminals made their way out of the printworks and back into parking lot where the idling Infernus awaited them.

A mechanical whirr was heard from out of nowhere, one that both men knew all too well.

"Get down!" Jake said pulling his partner down to the ground. A second later and the men would have been ripped to shreds as the high-powered bullets of a minigun soared through the air and tore up the concrete around them and cut through the Infernus like a hot knife through butter, igniting it in a big ball of flame within mere seconds.

"It's a fucking ambush!" Viper cried as he began firing in the direction the gunfire came from, but Jake would go for a faster kill pulling out a grenade and tossing it to a nearby rooftop where more gunfire had come from the shadows. Panicked screams followed as the grenade clanked against the concrete and then nothing was heard after the grenade detonated.

Screeching tires came from behind and the two men spun around to find a blue 4x4 Cartel Cruiser pulling into the parking lot behind them joined seconds later by another. Four heavily-armed Cartel goons stepped out of each vehicle and took aim, "Get ready to die, Senor Dickhead!"

"Now!" Jake screamed and dove for cover behind a dumpster. He popped a second later and fired a burst that caught one of the Cartel goons between the eyes.

"Get that gringo bitch!" another shouted and the henchmen all opened fire at simultaneously, pelting the dumpster with lead. Jake looked over to find Viper hiding behind another dumpster and pulling out one of his hand grenades. His friend looked back to him and nodded. The career criminal took that as a signal to distract the Cartels and fired another potshot that caught one of them in the shoulder. With the enemy distracted, Viper tossed the grenade and quickly plugged his ears. A resounding boom filled the air followed by flying debris and the ground shaking to the point where both men lost their balance.

Jake slowly peeked his head above the dumpster and could see that several of the Cartel members had been taken out and a few survivors stumbled about disoriented by the thick clouds of smoke surrounding them. He was able to make them out thanks to his enhanced vision and brought up his MP5. Within seconds all of the remaining enemies had been dropped by his carefully placed shots. All of them appeared to be dead until groans came from a stirring body.

"Come on, one of them is still alive," Jake called out and he slowly walked over to the fallen Cartel, a bloodied, broken man lying in a twisted position with several large chunks of shrapnel embedded in his body and a right hand barely held to the rest of his body by burnt strips of skin. He struggled to look upward, but when he did, his naturally tan skin paled as he saw the two Vercetti henchmen standing above him with guns drawn.

"All right asshole, time to talk! Where are you and your fellow shitheads going to strike next? Answer me!" Jake gruffly shouted resisting the urge to fire a bullet into his knee to make him talk.

"Go...Go...To...Hell..." the weakened Cartel muttered coughing up some blood.

Jake fired a shot at the ground just inches away from the man's ear, forcing him to let out a scream that was cut off by more blood coming from his mouth.

"I believe you didn't hear me the first time, this time you probably won't anyway because you're probably deaf in that ear by now. Tell me, where are you and your fellow shits going to strike next?" he growled with more rage and sounded like he would seriously put a bullet in the man if he didn't talk.

"Malibu..." the man groaned, "Going...For...Malibu...Next..." he then rolled his head to the side and was no more.

"You're right! They seem to be focusing most of their energy on the Malibu. They might have hit the other assets already, but chances are we can still save the Malibu," Viper said as he looked around for any kind of transportation and then spotted a Cartel Cruiser that had received some damage from the explosion, but still appeared to be in full working order and jumped into the driver's seat, "Let's move!"

Jake leapt into the Cruiser and fastened his seatbelt. The two men had quite a drive ahead of them as they would have to drive all the way from Little Havana to Vice Point. Viper punched the accelerator to the floor and sped down the streets with reckless abandon, showing no regard for the speed limit as he soared past the other puttering cars and made a violent swerve onto the bridge that connected Little Havana to the Leaf Links Golf Course and then made their way into Vice Point, where they raced through the crowded streets with little time to waste. The Malibu wasn't too far away and both men could almost taste the adrenaline that would soon surge through their veins from the upcoming battle.

They came upon the Malibu from the north and unsurprisingly found that the Cartel was already there and had set up a barricade with two Cruisers surrounded by anxious Cartel members who were probably aware of Jake and Viper's victory back at the printworks factory and the other Vercetti mob henchmen seeking to defend their boss' other assets around the city.

"Get ready to dive, buddy!" Viper ordered as he gunned the accelerator as fast as it would go.

Jake only nodded. He knew what his friend was about to do and it was a stunt he had performed on several missions in the past. By now the Cartel members had seen them coming and opened fire on the incoming vehicle, riddling the front end with bullets and were just inches away from striking the windshield when Viper called out.

"DIVE!"

As if it was second nature, Jake threw open his door and flung himself from the vehicle and to the sun-scorched pavement below. He hit the ground with a hard thud and rolled a couple of times before he finally caught himself and skidded to a halt. He wouldn't have time to look for Viper as he looked up to see the unmanned vehicle collide head-on with the barricade.

Almost instantly, the Cruiser he and Viper had been in caught fire and exploded into a large ball of brilliant reddish-orange flames that quickly engulfed the two vehicles making up the barricade, creating a chain reaction that claimed several passing civilian cars and did damage to the immediate surrounding shops and restaurants. Several Cartel henchmen were set ablaze and ran around like chickens with their heads cut off before they finally succumbed to the flames.

The survivors immediately took cover behind whatever they could find and started firing upon the two hired guns with everything they had. Jake had dove for cover in an alleyway and fired repeated bursts at his attackers, catching two right away with lethal shots. He looked over to see Viper firing back at the Cartels, but killing none of them. This was all too strange to Jake because like him, Viper was an expert shot who almost always nailed his target with lethal precision. He only missed if his target moved too quickly or if something was bothering him, but would have to think about it later.

A flash of red blinded Jake briefly and he shot down to the ground, narrowly missing the sniper round that would have caught him between the eyes. He looked up and spotted a Cartel agent on the roof of a SubUrban clothing store across from him getting ready to take another shot. The career criminal quickly rolled off to the side and fired a burst while crouched on one knee, sending three shots into the man's chest and he fell over the ledge, hitting the concrete below with a sickening splat.

Viper fired another burst at the Cartel members, catching one with a round to the stomach that left him on the ground writhing in pain and another with a lethal head shot that dropped him near his wounded comrade. Throughout all of the bloodshed, he managed to spot a Cartel agent come rushing out of the Malibu with a black briefcase in hand, followed closely by several guards from the club who fired at him nonstop.

"Jake, we have to move! I think they have the money!" he shouted and rose to his feet firing another barrage at the attacking Cartels, dropping an additional two with fatal shots.

The young career criminal cursed silently to himself and saw that there were still several henchmen that needed to be taken care of, he would have to move swiftly if he wanted to catch these men.

Taking a few deep breaths, Jake ran out onto the street firing upon the Cartels, dropping three in one salvo of hot lead. Another henchman tried to get the jump on him as he approached a shot up Sabre, but he managed to evade the Cartel's shots with quick dives and then finally caught up to the man. With a quick knee to the man's flabby gut, he then grabbed the man by the collar and then snatched his AK-47. Falling backwards, he used his foot to launch the man into the air and then took aim and fired an entire barrage into the man's gut as he remained airborne, killing him before he hit the ground. (A/N: The move just performed is based on a disarm technique from Namco's Dead To Rights called "Sunny Side Up" that can only be performed when you go up against an enemy with a submachine gun or assault rifle.)

Two more Cartel agents charged Jake intent on avenging their comrade. The career criminal only shook his head and dropped both men with a painful spinning heel kick and shot both of them while they were down. He then proceeded to steal their AK-47 ammo along with that of other dead Cartel members lying around, moving quickly with the grace of a well-trained surgeon as he knew that one of the henchmen had just grabbed the briefcase containing all the money from the vault and would be off soon.

The rattle of gunfire boomed next to Jake and he looked over to find Viper by his side fighting valiantly to aid his friend in their mission of retrieving the stolen money. He nodded silently to his friend and fired upon more attacking Cartels, dropping all of them with a lethal grace. The duo then came to the flaming wreckage of the Cartel Cruisers and then spotted a fire escape which they could reach by climbing up a bullet-riddled Stallion and then move safely along past wreckage which would have blocked their path otherwise.

Jake spotted the Cartel member with the briefcase and fired another burst that struck the Cruiser he was about to enter, puncturing its tires.

"Shit! Those yankee boys made it out! Kill 'dem both!" he the man ordered as he scrambled back to his feet, half-falling and half-crawling to get the briefcase that had slipped from his grasp. Four additional Cartels appeared to provide back-up.

"I'll take them! Get the money!" Viper ordered as he returned fire with the attacking Cartels.

"You got it!" Jake shot back as he ducked for cover behind a a bullet-riddled Rumpo van and looked out to see the Cartel member with the briefcase pumping his feet down the street, huffing and puffing the whole way before he finally ran out in front of a taxi and brought it to a screeching halt. He then proceeded to yank the driver from the car and tossed the briefcase in, speeding down the street.

Looking to his right, the criminal spotted an NRG-500 crotch-rocket and quickly hopped on. For added dramatic effect, he flipped on V-ROCK, which was playing the classic Metallica song "Seek And Destroy," which was exactly what he was about to do. With a powerful rev of the engine, he popped a wheelie as he sped down the war-torn street in pursuit of his target.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ramon Duarte beeped his horn frantically as he sped down the street in a frightened frenzy, desperate to get away from the man in black who had been pursuing him.

He had been part of a Cartel unit that was dispatched to the Malibu in Vice Point with orders to clear out the vault and bring the money back to the rendezvous point. It sounded like a simple mission in which he and the boys would just have to deal with a few inept, poorly-equipped security guards and defenseless patrons that would be in the way. Things definitely were that way for quite awhile, until that man in black and his accomplice showed up and started slaughtering the guys left and right.

None of that mattered right now. All he cared was that he had gathered the money he was supposed to and was halfway to the scheduled drop-off point. Pretty soon he would be back home to a good drink and a bad woman, if he could survive long enough with all of these stupid civilian vehicles in the way.

Using the same insane driving skills he had employed on previous missions, he quickly sped up and swerved around a semi truck and then cut between a Banshee and a Buffalo before he settled into a lane and sped up as fast as he could move.

The fear that once plagued him gradually began to disappear as he realized that he was now far away from the street outside the Malibu and both men had vanished from sight. Maybe things were going to be all right after all.

His sense of security quickly vanished as he looked in his rear-view mirror and saw something that chilled his blood.

It was the man in black, and he was chasing after him at full speed on a crotch-rocket, bobbing and weaving around traffic. He stood up on his crotch-rocket and his black trenchcoat blew in the air behind him, making him look like he was flying towards him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Didn't think I would give up so easily, did you?" Jake taunted as he spotted the hijacked taxi in front of him and stood up on the bike to increase his speed. By now, the Cartel member had probably taken notice of him as the vehicle began to swerve back and forth at an erratic pace and cut off a Cheetah that he barely managed to cut around. A few evasive maneuvers were not going to slow down the determined career criminal by any means and he would be damned before he would allow a slimy weasel like this punk to slip through his fingers without a fight.

He gunned his engine and sped up until he was almost next to the taxi and flashed a demonic grin at the horrified looking driver, letting him know that he had no plans of giving up and quickly reached for his MP5. He could see the man scream on the inside as he began to pepper the side of the cab with submachine gun fire, but let up to avoid striking the gas tank because he still needed the money intact.

Before he could squeeze off a few more rounds, a familiar and annoying siren seemingly came from out of nowhere and was closely moving in behind the career criminal.

"Terrific!" Jake snarled as he looked in his rear-view mirror to see a police car speeding up behind him with lights and siren going. Now he had two problems to deal with.

"Attention! You are within violation of the Vice City weapons code! Pull over at once or we will be forced to open fire!" the police officer barked over his megaphone.

"Like that will ever happen," Jake thought to himself as he continued to speed after the taxi cab, but made sure to keep a close eye on the police cruiser tailing him at the same time.

Jake again withdrew his MP5 and fired another barrage at the taxi, striking it several times in the rear and popping open its trunk, but failing purposely to strike its tires. He wanted to get the police at a distance before he would make his move on the hijacked taxi. Firing at the taxi also brought consequence as the officer in the passenger seat began taking shots at him. He responded with a few well-placed shots at the police car, striking nothing vital, but forcing it to temporarily swerve off to the side so he could regain his focus on the fleeing taxi.

Turning around, he looked up to find a freeway sign above indicating that he was about to enter the Washington Beach district, "Fuck, I've gotta get this guy before we get into the more populated areas!" Jake thought to himself as he was forced to speed around a few more cars and looked back to see that the police car was once again hot on his tail.

Fate was proven to be on his side though.

Jake watched as a Packer semi truck entered the street from an exit ramp and he had temporarily lost sight of the taxi in front of it. This would not slow him down though as he quickly thought up another idea and sped up again. Gripping the handlebars with an iron grip, he sped up the ramp and soared through the air, landing just inches in front of the truck and it was here he would put the rest of his plan into motion.

"This should slow the pigs down," he thought to himself as he turned around and fired upon the truck, puncturing both of its front tires.

The Packer truck began to swerve out of control and would nearly tip over on several occasions before the driver slammed on the brakes and the truck would fishtail, spinning to the side and slamming into a small antiques shop and taking up most of the street, thus holding off the pursuit of the police cruiser that had been chasing him.

With the police out of the way, Jake was free to resume his pursuit of the fleeing Cartel agent and found that he was still not too far away from the taxi. Now he could incapacitate the vehicle.

Speeding up his bike again, the career criminal raised his MP5 and let loose another volley of hot lead, finally puncturing one of the rear tires and sending the man skidding out of control.

The hijacked taxi swerved back and forth knocking over benches, fire hydrants, and a streetlight before it clipped an oncoming Greenwood sedan and flipped several times, crushing several pedestrians before it skidded to a halt outside of what used to be Ken Rosenberg's former law office.

The injured Cartel member climbed out through his shattered driver's side window, still instinctively clutching his briefcase and blood flowed down his head from numerous cuts on his face and his left leg was been backwards at an awkward angle. He inched closer to death with every attempted movement and screamed out in pain as he relinquished his grip on the briefcase.

"D...D...Damn...Punk!" he grunted as he looked up and another expression of utter horror crossed his bloody face.

Without a word, Jake raised his gun and fired, sending the man to a well-deserved death. He bent down and snatched the briefcase before heading back to the motorcycle. As he hopped back on the bike, he suddenly noticed that many pedestrians had gathered around and stared in absolute horror at the murder they had just witnessed. Annoying by their pitiful stares, he raised the MP5 and fired into the air, sending screaming pedestrians fleeing in every direction. He would be long gone before any of them had enough sense to call the authorities.

That was the least of his worries right now as he had to get back to Viper in Vice Point and made a U-turn speeding back down the street he came from.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake sped down the streets keeping a close eye out for any police and cut through several alleys he had memorized during his time in Vice and knew the fastest way to get back to the Malibu, where he hoped that by now Viper had managed to take care of those remaining Cartels and if not, he had at least completed the task of getting the money back and would eliminate the remaining henchmen with ease if they still lingered about.

Viper was his best friend, the closest thing he had to having a real brother after he was forced to distance himself from his birth family when he murdered his father. He hoped that the man was all right and that he was truly too tough to die.

He travelled down the street obeying the speed limit this time and moved along side streets where police presence wasn't as heavy and made sure to avoid creating a scene amongst the other drivers and pedestrians. As soon as things slowed down he would try to contact the other Vercetti henchmen and see how they were doing with the other assets. If they had failed to secure them from the Cartel, then he would be over to help them in an instant as he showed much hatred for the Cartel after what they had killed several of his friends and fucked up a lot of innocent people with their SPANK up in Liberty City and wanted to see every last one of them wiped out.

He would eventually get his chance when he could find out where their main base was and then he would really let them have it, but right now getting back to Viper was his main priority and looking up to see the "Vincent St." sign confirmed that he was indeed two blocks away and began to pick up some speed until he took another left and was back on the war-torn street he had just come from.

Much to his relief, he found Viper standing alone outside the Malibu club, but what bothered him was that the bodies of the Cartel members who had attacked them before he left to chase down the agent fleeing with the money were nowhere to be found and the only other bodies he could find were those of the Malibu security guards who had been helping Viper out. It was another suspicious thing he noticed, but for now he would act cool and focus on getting back to the mansion. He quickly sped up and then skidded to a halt next to his friend.

"Viper, I got the money! Where are those Cartel bitches you were fighting before I left?" he asked dismounting from the bike.

"I scared those bitches away!" he replied with a cocky grin and proudly stroked his M-4 assault rifle, "I mean, they never saw what hit them after I fired everything I got like a man possessed!"

"Sure, let's just get back to the mansion-"

Before Jake could finish the sentence, the sound of helicopter blades filled the air and the two men looked up to find a Police Maverick hovering above them with malicious intent.

"This is the V.C.P.D.! Both of you drop your weapons and put your hands above your head! Do it now or we will be forced to use deadly force!" the officer shouted over the loudspeaker, but failed to deter both men.

More sirens filled the air and the two criminals looked to find four police cruisers speeding down the street after them followed closely by two S.W.A.T. Enforcers and several HPV1000 police motorcycles. Ropes dangled out of the police helicopter and six black and blue clad S.W.A.T. officers started to rappel down towards them.

"Well what do you know, we've got some uninvited guests!" Viper announced, unafraid of the officers' presence.

"You are under arrest! Give up now or we will open fire!" a shotgun-toting officer positioned behind his car door shouted

Another set of screeching tires was heard from behind and the two men turned around to find a familiar face waiting for them in an Admiral sedan.

"Hey boys, looks like you could use a lift," Mercedes Cortez called out as she waved the two criminals over to her vehicle.

"Lady, I love your timing!" Viper shouted over the sound of gunfire as the officers began firing at them. Jake fired back as he slowly backed towards the came and then threw himself into the backseat.

"Drive!"

The middle-aged woman needed no further explanation as she slammed the pedal to the floor and peeled down the street fishtailing as she took a sharp turn and sped down a straightaway followed closely by several police motorcycles. Mercedes screamed as one of the officers fired repeatedly shots into the back of the car and quickly yanked the wheel to the right.

"We'll take these clowns, just focus on driving!" Viper ordered from the front passenger seat as he stuck his entire upper body out of his window and began firing upon the attackers with his M-4, sending both men flying from their bikes right away.

The car rocked as a police cruiser charged past the fallen motorcycles and rammed into the back of the small car, nearly knocking Viper from his perch. Jake had been in the backseat and quickly stuck his upper body out his window and began firing upon the patrol car with his AK-47. He continued firing until he struck the windshield and splotches of crimson decorated the cracking glass. A smile crossed his features as he watched the vehicle spin out of control and collide with an incoming Walton pickup truck.

As one car was taken down, two more police cruisers took its place in the pursuit and were attempting to sandwich the Admiral from both sides. Jake watched as the car coming from the right sped up alongside them and the officer in the passenger seat began taking potshots at the car and narrowly hit the career criminal twice. Quickly regaining his composure, he fired a barrage into the engine of the patrol car until it began smoking, followed shortly by flames emerging from underneath the hood. Instinctively, both officers down from the flaming car and it exploded into a mass of twisted metal that barely caught the other pursuing car in the blast radius. The young career criminal was careful to make sure that the other car would not pursue and fired at the ground around it, catching one of its tires and sending it spinning out of control before it flipped several times and landed on a nearby sidewalk.

"Bullseye!" Jake smirked to himself and lowered his body a little ready for more patrol cars to appear and quickly fired another burst when another cruiser tried to ambush them from a side street. Him and Viper tag teamed the vehicle, making quicker work of it as it exploded and knocked two officers pursuing by motorcycle into the air.

"Jake, over here! There's more!" Viper shouted as more patrol cars appeared from their right and he fired upon them until he was forced to reload and ducked back inside the car.

Remembering he still had his hand grenades left, Jake pulled a grenade from his belt and tossed it in the direction of the oncoming cars, catching one in an explosion that flipped it over from back to front. Reloading his own assault rifle, he steadied his aim and took out two more cruisers with vital shots to their engines, which in turn swallowed two additional police cars in another chain reaction as they blew up. Before he could continue his assault, he felt a gloved hand yank him by the collar.

"Where do you think you're going, lawbreaker?"

Unknown to the career criminal, as he was distracted by the other police units, a police motorcycle had managed to speed past the carnage and now its driver had gotten close enough to leap onto the moving vehicle and was holding him by the collar.

"None of your concern, pig!" Jake bitterly spat, punching the man in the face and then backhanding him from the vehicle.

The vehicle travelled farther along until it took another sharp turn and then came to a sudden halt.

"S.W.A.T., twelve o'clock!" Mercedes cried out.

The two criminals turned to find a S.W.A.T. barricade erected in front of them consisting of two Enforcers and several wooden fortifications, and manned by a bunch of pissed of S.W.A.T. officers who fired mercilessly upon them with their Micro-MP5 submachine guns.

"Hang on guys, I'm gonna get us the fuck outta here!" the woman spoke, quickly shifting the car into reverse and making a sharp Y-turn, narrowly evading a speeding police cruiser that had seemed intent on crashing right into them. Several police cars had gathered behind them as they were stopped by the barricade and many officers had already exited their vehicles and opened fire as they sped by, forcing all three of them to duck as Mercedes blindly sped through and clipped one of the cars, yet moved as if nothing had happened.

"Keep them off our tail," she shouted as she searched the area frantically for an alternate route that could possibly get them back to the Vercetti Estate, a Pay n' Spray, or some other place remotely safe where they could lay low for a few hours, get some food, get some rest, and maybe get some new threads and a new ride. So far they spotted nothing but a bunch of shops, restaurants, and offices where they would be recognized immediately and turned over to the authorities. She had to think fast because more than Mr. Vercetti's livelihood was on the line, their lives were as well.

Jake carefully poked his head up over the backseat looking out the shattered back window to see one of the S.W.A.T. Enforcers closing in on them. "Mercedes, you'd better speed up now!" he ordered as he unclipped another grenade from his belt and tossed it out the window. The metallic object bounced and then rolled along the concrete until it was under the paddywagon and then detonated, sending the police vehicle flying into the air and flipping it onto its side before it exploded again into yet another heap of twisted metal that had been left in their wake.

Loud pings filled the air and several bulletholes soon appeared in the roof, embedding themselves in the backseat just inches away from Jake's left leg. They were being fired upon from overhead by a pursuing police helicopter and Viper was already firing back from the front. The younger criminal then stuck his own assault rifle out the window and fired everything he had at the helicopter. After a couple of reloads, both men eventually struck the rotating cylinder of the helicopter's blades causing it to catch fire. They both smiled to themselves as they watched the flaming chopper spinning on its axis as it fell to the ground and blow up into another large heap, barring the further pursuit of police vehicles that had been on their tail.

"Up ahead!" Mercedes cried, causing both men to whirl around thinking that there were more police units up ahead, but much to their relief she had spotted a Pay n' Spray.

"They can't see us now, quick!" Viper shouted as the woman closed in on the small auto repair shop and made another dangerous turn as she sped into the garage and nearly knocked over a few toolboxes. The door closed quickly behind them.

The trio laid low for the next few hours as Mercedes' Admiral was repaired and resprayed, hopefully ensuring that the authorities would not recognize them the second they returned to the streets. Tension was high as police sirens and helicopters could be heard on the outside now mixing with the wailing sirens of emergency and fire teams as they fought the blazes and treated the wounded. The two criminals kept their weapons ready at all times, as did Mercedes who was given a Micro-MP5 by the mechanics, and the mechanics themselves were armed with combat shotguns and Ruger assault rifles. All were ready to fight if need be.

An electronic ringing suddenly caught everybody's attention and turned to Jake as they realized it was only his cell phone.

"Hello?" he asked cautiously as he picked up, hoping that the authorities hadn't found out his number.

"Jake, it's Tommy!" the coke baron nearly shouted from the other end. The young criminal was instantly relieved to find that it was only his employer and then motioned for the others to stand down.

"Tommy, what's going on? Did you manage to defend the assets from those scumbags?" he anxiously asked hoping that the Cartel had been held off for the rest of the day.

"We got 'em all. My boys actually did some good for once and drove them away. Hell, even that creepy old Maude bitch managed to hold them off when they tried raiding the Cherry Popper ice cream factory. They did though, manage to temporarily take over the film studio, but I introduced them to my minigun and that was the end of that. Gotta be thankful I managed to get all of those weapons from Phil when this crap started."

"Heh heh, good to hear," Jake replied, "Viper and I managed to get the money back from the Malibu. Somebody tipped off the cops though, but thankfully Mercedes was in the right place at the right time. We're hiding out at some Pay n' Spray in Washington Beach right now and waiting for those damned pigs to let up."

"Lay low for a few more hours, soon as they let up, get the money back here to the estate. We'll drink in your honor when you get back," Tommy chimed.

"Sure thing, boss," Jake said and then switched his phone off.

Jake and his two companions laid low for two more hours and by the time the police had let up, it was already after ten o'clock at night. The only place open this late at night was the newly opened Cluckin' Bell that wasn't too far away so they stopped by and decided to eat in celebration. Jake enjoyed a Cluckin' Big Meal along with a Lemon Lime Sprunk soda, while Mercedes had a salad meal and Viper went big time eating an entire Cluckin' Huge Meal. Their celebration was a festive occasion for the three as they sat back and laughed as they shared stories of their collective times in Vice City.

Unknown to all of them, what happened today was just a small glimpse of what would be coming along in the coming days and the final battle would soon be afoot.

A/N: Okay, that was part one of "Flashbacks of a Final Battle" and I hope to get cracking on Pt. 2 pretty soon. Some of you may notice that some parts of this chapter may seem a little brief and sped up, but I feel that in a way helps match the faster paced action of Grand Theft Auto over the slowed down approach of Resident Evil, which at times allows you to slow down and take note of your surroundings most of the time. Well I hope you all enjoyed and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/ 


	17. Flashback Pt 2: Estate of Emergency

Darkness Arises by E-Z B

Author's Note: This is part 2 of "Flashbacks of a Final Battle," where we get closer to the conclusion of a major event that happened in Jake's past. Once again, this will be written in the near-manic pace of the Grand Theft Auto games, so some parts might seem rushed. Also, look for some familiar faces to make brief cameos in this upcoming chapter. Until then, read and review!

Flashback Pt. 2: Estate of Emergency

It was a bright, beautiful, and seemingly pleasant day in Vice City. The sun shone high in the clear blue skies dotted by the presence of seemingly hundreds of seagulls filling the air with their symphony of squawks combined with the crashing of the crystal waves and revving engines of the motorboats below. The temperature was also set at a pleasant seventy degrees even, truly a perfect day to go to the beach and observe the bikini-clad women, have a backyard barbecue, go for a bike ride, or just lounge around outside in general.

The atmosphere had been relatively peaceful at the Vercetti Estate for most of the day as a majority of the guards mingled amongst themselves during their off time and did a variety of fun activities around the mansion grounds to pass the time.

Jake Cavanaugh reclined in a lawnchair situated near the pool of the grand estate. He held an ice cold soda in one hand and a large cheeseburger from the local Burger Shot in the other. His trademark black trenchcoat had been removed and laid on the concrete next to him, on top of it rested a Colt M-4 assault rifle along with his S&M M629C and MP5 submachine gun he had used a few days ago.

Three days had passed since the Cartel's failed grand sweep of Tommy's assets. Much of the smoke had cleared from the bloody skirmishes of the day, but still Jake and Viper had been forced to lay low as several cops had been killed in the following escape and would probably not be able to leave the estate grounds for a few more days without having the cops on their trail. Both men were instructed to stay put and any errands they needed to have performed or anything else they needed would have to be retrieved by other henchmen working for Tommy.

Sure, Jake needed the time off to relax, but there was something quite not right that kept him from fully enjoying his time off and had him on edge whenever he was around Viper.

He looked over to his best friend, who sat in the lawnchair next to him with a martini in hand and cell phone in the other chatting with some prostitute he claims to have visited several times around the city. The man laughed as if nothing serious was going on around him, and that seriously bothered Jake. The old Viper he knew was more serious and reserved, who was very straight to the point about completing his mission objectives and killed with an efficiency almost as lethal as his own. Now, he seemed more content to goof off and with those battles from a few days ago, it almost looked as if he had seriously lost his edge. He even claimed that those Cartel members who had attacked both of them outside the Malibu before he set off after that thug who had escaped with the money had run away scared and he let them go, that was definitely not something he had known his friend to do in the past as Viper was very ruthless and bloodthirsty compared to him and never liked to leave any witnesses behind. Despite the fact that he was more likely to spare somebody than his partner, it still deeply unsettled him and he felt a need to watch his friend closely.

The young career criminal's thoughts were interrupted as an attractive young Latin woman in a skimpy black thong bikini sat down on his lap and stared directly into his eyes. "Hello Jake," she purred, "how 'bout we go inside? Maybe do like we did last night? Don't you think?" she smiled seductively as her emerald green eyes stared directly into his cold blue-gray ones.

The woman was Veronica, one of Mr. Vercetti's best and most expensive escorts whom he had already had several intimate encounters with during his stay down in Vice. She was his personal favorite with her exotic Cuban looks and definitely had the best body of all the women employed by the boss. Last night had been an incredible encounter for him, but right now sex was the absolute last thing on his mind as he was bothered by his best friend's unusual behavior.

"Sorry Veronica, believe it or not, I'm not really in the mood right now," Jake sighed trying to sound as nice as he possibly could.

"Ah c'mon baby," she pouted as she straddled him and then rubbed her ample breasts against his chest in an attempt to arouse him, "weren't my screams music to your ears last night?" she asked whipping her head and temporarily blinding him as her long brown hair brushed across his face and then gently blew on his face. "I'm always ready for my hard working hunk," her voice lowering into her trademark seductive purr as she vigorously stroked his chest.

There seemed to be no way around this woman as she pushed him back and began kissing him passionately. He thought to himself how this woman really had a way of getting what she wanted when it came to sexual needs and he could gradually feel himself caving in as he no longer resisted her advances.

The moment of would-be passion was ruined by a familiar, annoying voice that irritated many.

"Hey boys, I hope you two are...Whoa, whoa there! Did I just wander across something I shouldn't be seeing?"

Jake groaned and pushed Veronica aside to reveal the former lawyer Ken Rosenberg standing before him with his eyes covered, but looking through the cracks of his fingers trying to sneak a peek at the young woman straddling him. He was the single most annoying person the career criminal knew and if he wasn't so close to Mr. Vercetti, he probably would have shot him dead a long time ago.

"What do you want, Ken?" he snapped, unable to hide the annoyance in his voice. He then turned his attention to Veronica, "Go inside, I'll be up later," he said politely dismissing the woman and then returned his attention to the ex-lawyer.

"I-I-I'm sorry, I just came to check up on both of you and see how you are doing? It's been a few days since you guys took out all those Cartel goons trying to rob Tommy's assets and I know it took a lot out of both of you, so I just thought I'd come and see how things are going," the annoying man sheepishly replied, visibly afraid of Jake despite his association with Tommy.

"We're just freakin' peachy here, Kenny Boy. Thanks to the damned pigs in this city, we're forced to lay low and watch the grass grow around here while the Cartel is probably out planning their next move and could strike at any second!" Viper shouted leaping up from his chair and began pacing around. "Ever since they came to the city, those punks have been doing nothing but causing trouble and have really come close to sticking it to Mr. V on several occasions. Sure, they may not be as well-organized as us, but they've got the guys, they've got the guns, and they sure as hell have a steady cash flow thanks to that SPANK crap they've been pushing on the streets! Three days ago we struck a major blow against them and we should've followed them back to the rock they crawled out from under and blasted all of them dead before they had a chance to regroup! Those fucking cops! I fucking hate them!" Viper growled tossing his martini glass to the pavement and shattering it into a million pieces.

The outburst main Ken jump backwards and he nearly fell into the pool, "Geez kid, you're almost getting as bad as Tommy! With a temper like that...sheesh! Right now I'm thinking it should be you running the criminal empire around here, not him."

"What did you just say?" another voice cut in.

The three men turned to find Tommy standing behind them wearing a pink pin-striped suit with a pink dress shirt and black tie underneath. He lowered his expensive looking shades and narrowed his eyes at Ken.

"Uh...heh heh! I was just kidding around Tommy y'know! You're the big boss around here! Been that way for the last eleven years! Nobody touches your or can run this city better than you! You're numero uno! The sultan! Public enemy number one! Okay, I'm sorry!" the ex-lawyer whined an apology in his usual manic tone while Tommy just stood by and shook his head.

"Not the wisest time to be questioning his authority," Jake cut in with a slight elbow to the smaller man's side, forcing him to again jump.

Tommy was not alone. He was flanked from both sides by Mercedes and four other gentlemen.

The first was a stocky man with graying blonde hair trimmed into a short crewcut. He looked like a battle-hardened veteran who had served his country and most notably his right arm was missing just below the shoulder. At the moment though, he looked more like a white trash redneck, wearing a black t-shirt that had a bald eagle bursting through a Confederate flag, green cargo pants, and black combat boots. An M-4 assault rifle was also present in his remaining hand and he shifted focus back and forth between the three men before him and his beautiful rifle. His name was Phil Cassidy, a local weapons supplier and ace marksman who had performed a big bank heist along with Tommy and two others back in 1986. With delusions of grandeur, he claimed to have lost his arm serving his country down in Nicaragua, but according to Tommy, he had gotten drunk from the whiff of some boomshine and lost it in an accidental explosion.

Second in the group was a tall, muscular man with long, graying brown hair, and a graying beard and mustache. He wore a leather biker vest and a blue shirt underneath with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his heavily tattooed forearms. This man was "Big" Mitch Baker, the leader of a local biker gang for whom Tommy had performed several errands for in the past.

Third in the group was an older man of average height with slicked back hair and a bushy mustache that were both greying quickly. He wore a blue Texan-style business suit complete with a large cowboy hat. This man was the notorious real estate tycoon Avery Carrington, known for his aggressive "negotiating" techniques that never failed to gain him new property around the city.

The last man in the group was a shorter man with short blonde hair and a tanned complexion. He wore a denim vest, white tanktop, blue jeans, and a gold chain around his neck. This man was a Brit named Kent Paul, a former band manager who had worked with the 80's hair metal group Love Fist and had later acted as a sound engineer for the rapper Madd Dogg on his comeback album back in '92. He too had done business with Tommy back when he first arrived in Vice and was later in San Andreas where he had become reacquainted with Ken while he managed Caligula's Palace. The two men made what was initially supposed to be a surprise visit, but were now forced to stay and help out due to the Cartel's interference, knowing they wouldn't be safe if they tried to leave.

"What's up?" Jake asked stepping towards his boss followed closely by Viper and Ken.

Tommy sighed and then spoke with a heavy head, "It looks like our party's going to be cancelled, the shit's about to hit the fan, kid," he explained and took his young henchman by the shoulder leading him about. "I've just received word from some of the boys that they spotted some more of those Cartel shitheads loading up down at the docks near my boatyard, that can mean only one thing. They must be planning another grand assault, but where to be exact, they have no clue."

Both henchmen cursed to themselves while Ken cried out like he had just seen a ghost.

"Oh this is just fucking great!" he bellowed throwing his arms in the air and moving around like he had just been shot, "As if our day couldn't get any better! Now we've got more of those goons breathing down our necks! Oh god, I should've just stayed in Vinewood where it was safe!"

"Will yeh shut yer fuckin' trap!" Phil called out slapping the former lawyer upside the head, shutting him up instantly.

"So what are we gonna do now, mate? These damned Cartel blokes never know when to take a bloody freakin' break!" Paul cut in, only inviting an annoyed glare from Tommy because he knew the Brit was not a trained fighter and would be worthless in an actual battle.

"We're going to defend this place, that's what!" he shot back, "We'll also have to take one of those bastards alive, find out where the hell they're producing all that SPANK crap from."

"I'll get on the horn and round up some of the boys!" Mitch spoke up and produced a cell phone from his pocket.

"Boss, we've got company!" called out one of Tommy's guards perched atop the mansion.

Tommy and his associates looked off into the distance and saw a fleet of five Squallo speedboats closing in on the island. As they got closer, they managed to make out that the occupants were members of the Colombian Cartel.

"Well whatta ya' know, those bastards got some boats now!" Tommy grunted withdrawing a Colt .45 from his concealed shoulder holster and then turned to address the others, "Ken, Paul, Mercedes, get inside now! Phil, Mitch, Jake, and Viper, get into position! Somebody get me an assault rifle too!" he shouted out orders like a well-prepared squad leader about to lead his troops into battle. This was not the first time he had to defend his home turf and he was sure that it wouldn't be his last either.

Almost immediately shots rang out and one of Tommy's men fell over after taking several shots to the chest. Without any cue from Tommy, the other guards opened fire upon their attackers and so far had made no progress.

Jake quickly ran over to the pool and slipped on his combat armor, cursing himself for removing it in the first place when he was at the Vercetti Estate of all places, a big lightning rod for gang attacks. He didn't even bother to put on his trenchcoat and instead scooped up his guns and took cover behind one of the stone barriers and listened as the bullets tore away at the wall in front of him. Viper too had gathered up his weapons and wasn't very far from his buddy when he popped out and fired a few rounds at the incoming boats before being forced back by a missed shot that nearly caught him in the arm.

The other guards were not faring too well in their objective of taking down the boats and another guard plummeted to his death from the mansion's roof after taking a round to the chest, followed by another who took a fatal round to the skull and slumped over the balcony railing he fired from behind. Yet another was shot dead on the dock and fell into the water below while two more were dropped and fell into the pool Jake and Viper had previously lounged by, turning most of the crystal blue water into a vile shade of crimson. A guard who had been near them received a round to the shoulder, but was not dead and was quickly pulled to safety by Mitch.

Jake finally popped up from behind his cover and began shooting back at the boats. The five water vehicles passed by blazing away and then all turned to make another pass. Popping up from behind the barrier again, Jake squeezed off a few more rounds and finally took down one of the Cartels and watched as the man toppled over backwards and fell into the water.

"Nice shootin', son!" Phil shouted over the roar of gunfire as he took aim and dropped another with a single shot.

Viper was crouched behind a concrete post and popped out to fire another barrage, catching one of them in the back. Watching his friend drop one of the Cartels with a lethal shot brought some relief to Jake, but strangely enough, he spotted a poorly concealed look of regret in the man's eyes as if he was sorry for what he had just done.

The speedboats circled the island like a school of sharks going after one large whale, their occupants firing away at Tommy's guards and killing even more of them. A few had been wounded and some were healthy enough to run for cover while many more laid on the ground screaming in pain. Knowing the Cartel and their ruthless aggression, they probably wouldn't be able to save the wounded by the time the battle had concluded.

In a slight turn of events, all four men in one of the boats dropped simultaneously and their boat sped off aimlessly into the open ocean and far away from the island. Jake looked behind him to see Tommy had finally gotten his hands on a Colt M-4 and stood next to Phil as both men double teamed the incoming boats. He smiled as he realized that one boat had been incapacitated and there were only four left.

Nodding to the two older men, Jake suddenly made a mad dash out into the open and leapt into the air, firing a barrage of hot lead into their incoming attackers until he hit the ground. By then, his clip had run dry and he was forced to slap in a new magazine. His attack had desired results though as one of the boat drivers had been picked off and his boat spun out of control as the two other Cartels frantically scrambled to gain control of the boat, but they were too late as they collided with another boat, creating a massive explosion that sent huge waves rippling through the air and threatened to overturn one of the other passing boats.

There were now only two boats left and they soared around the island furiously with no signs of giving up. Despite the loss of three of their fellow crafts, the gunmen onboard still managed to inflict heavy losses upon Vercetti's men and they continued to fall in all directions around Jake, Viper, and the three Vercetti higher-ups.

Tommy continued to fire away madly at his attackers until he was forced to reload and quickly ducked behind a raised flower bed. Ignoring the dust and pebbles raining down upon him, he was about to pop back out when one of his henchmen, Louie, suddenly appeared behind him nearly forcing him to jump.

"I've got bad news, boss!" the young guard shouted over the gunfire, laying on the dry grass clutching his MP5 for dear life.

"And just what the hell happens now?" Tommy asked rolling his eyes at the sound of more bad news about to come his way.

"There's more of the Cartel, and they're on their way now! They're coming down the freaking street as I speak!"

Tommy cursed silently to himself and stuck his head up right as another one of his men hit the ground dead. He looked out to see that two Squallos carrying Cartel members remained and that four of his top associates along with his surviving guards continued to fight back valiantly against their assailants. Jake and Phil fired away calmly at the attackers, the young hired gun dropping one attacker while the old veteran dropped two in one flurry. He then looked back to Louie and saw that one of the main walls was not too far away and motioned for the guard to follow him.

He quickly crouch walked over to the wall and set up a ladder that had been hidden behind a small brick watchtower and looked over the wall to see a convoy of dark blue Cartel Cruisers speeding down the street followed closely by what looked like a bullet-proof Patriot. Right away the men in the vehicles began firing upon the guards at the front gates.

"Shit! There's more of them coming, now we've gotta fight them on two fronts!" he thought to himself as he climbed down and then spoke to Louie, tell the guys inside to stay where they are and man the fort! I'm coming in!" He then looked over to his top associates, "Jake, Mitch, Phil, stay out here and hold those other freaks off! Viper, come inside with me now!"

With a quick nod of his head, Viper rushed in Tommy's direction, but not before looking back to give Jake a quick nod offering him a silent wish of luck.

Jake nodded back with a quick thumbs up and then looked back to Phil and Mitch, the latter of the two firing pot shots with his Desert Eagle magnum while the former of the two had to take some time loading a fresh clip into his Colt M-4. He popped back out and fired another burst which only managed to put a few holes into one of the passing boats. With another daredevil surge of adrenaline, he rushed out towards the dock and dodged bullets being fired at him as he dropped another boat pilot and sent the boat with the remaining men crashing into the burning wreckage of one of the other wrecked crafts. He watched with no remorse as one of the Cartel goons had leapt from the boat, but apparently did not know how to swim and flailed about trying to get out of his predicament, but it was no use for him.

By now there was only one boat left, yet the men onboard fired away driven by the fury caused by the deaths of their lost comrades and dropped two additional Vercetti guards. Jake knew that he had to get this last boat taken care of fast so he could join Tommy and Viper in defending the rest of the estate. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a hand grenade and looked at it, knowing that he probably could not directly strike the boat, but could probably at least get it close enough to flip it over.

"Phil, cover me!" Jake shouted as he pulled the pin and tossed the grenade near the boat's path. Just as he predicted, the explosive did miss the boat, but in the end it created a powerful tidal wave from beneath the water that flipped the boat over, trapping its occupants beneath. Phil closed one eye and zeroed in on the boat's gas tank and with a smirk, pulled the trigger. A second later, the boat disappeared in a magnificent fireball that sent chunks of burning metal flying in all directions.

The young career criminal looked back to see that Phil and Mitch both appeared to be unharmed and then looked along the corpse-laden backyard to see that only six of the guards patrolling the outer area had survived, but there were more Cartels on the way that needed to be dealt with so he immediately took charge of the situation, "Phil and Mitch, stay here and guard the outer perimeter!" he ordered the war veteran and biker, "You two, stay with them!" he shouted to the two guards who stood closest to the Vercetti higher-ups. He then turned around where four more exhausted Vercetti guards stood with weapons in hand, "The four of you, come with me! Now move your asses!" he ordered raising his assault rifle into the air and leading the charge.

Gunfire could be heard from inside the mansion and Jake led the four guards through a back door and into a bloody hallway where four more of Tommy's guards had been slaughtered. With a hand motion, he told the guards to remain silent and move quietly as he could hear moans coming from around the corner and quietly turned to find a Vercetti guard who had taken a nasty shot to the stomach and was barely hanging on. He crept over to the man and knelt down.

"What happened here? Are those Cartel goons already in the house?" he asked quietly.

"Vi...per..." the man hoarsely choked out before he fell over dead.

Viper? Jake had noticed his friend's strange behavior over the past few days, could he have been responsible for this, he asked himself as he searched the freshly deceased guard and obtained two additional MP5 clips. With extra ammunition found, he looked back to where the four other guards were searching corpses for ammunition, "Come on guys, I smell a rat!"

The band of five Vercetti henchmen moved through several other rooms, find three additional guard corpses along the way who had been shot up by an unknown assailant, chilling discoveries that only sent shivers down Jake's spine and making it his focus to find Tommy and make sure he was all right. He also had to plan out how he would react to Viper when he ran into him again. Moving along with the efficiency of a S.W.A.T. team, the five operatives continued running until they reached the main foyer of the grand estate and it was here things would take a sudden turn for the worse.

Jake led the charge into the large foyer of the Vercetti Mansion, where the sounds of gunfire and the screams of dying men could be heard from the outside, but that wasn't what bothered him. Standing before him on the red carpet leading to the main staircase was Viper himself, who looked on grimly with his M-4 assault rifle in hand, standing in the foyer alone doing nothing when he should have been out front helping guard the estate.

"Viper! What's going on?" he cried in surprise, but was cut off by the sudden entrance of Tommy.

Tommy Vercetti barged into the main hall standing at the top of the grand staircase with his own M-4 assault rifle in hand. A look of surprise crossed his face as he looked down and saw Jake and Viper both down there with the guards flanking the former.

"Viper, what the hell are you doing in here? I told you to go out front and help the guys at the gate while I retrieved some weapons! Now come on, all of you, we have to stop those freaks before they get inside!" the coke baron ordered as he began to descend the stairs until the unthinkable happened.

From out of nowhere, a smile suddenly crossed Viper's features, "Wrong, you worthless chumps ain't stopping nobody!" he spat and raised his rifle.

Almost as if he could predict the man's movements, Jake quickly dove out of the way as his supposed friend pulled the trigger and unleashed a volley of hot lead that tore apart the four nameless guards like they had literally just been sent through a blender and sprayed blood in every direction manageable.

With a soft thud, Jake landed not too far away from the sight of the small massacre and rose back to his feet with rifle raised. It took a second to register what had just happened, but when it finally sunk in he stared at the man who was supposed to be his closest friend in the world with a look of surreal shock and dismay, which was quickly replaced by a very realistic look of hatred as his lips curled into an acidic snarl, "Well I'll be fucking damned!"

"Surprised?" Viper taunted with a diabolical laugh, "Looks like not all of your followers are completely loyal to you, Mr. V!"

"Viper, what the hell is going on here?" Tommy screamed as he trained his M-4 on the stocky man's chest, "And give me a reason I shouldn't shoot you dead right now!"

"I think I know what's up, you've been working for the Cartel all along, haven't you?" Jake asked, furrowing his brow at the man who stood in front of him.

"My, my Jake, you certainly don't look like it, but I will give it to you though, you were always sharper than you looked," Viper replied in a mocking manner that made his blood boil, "Well to answer your question, yes Jake, yes I have been working for the Cartel all along...I know I lied, so sue me!"

"Well I see you truly live up to your moniker, you're nothing but a filthy snake in the grass!" Jake replied, failing to conceal the anger rising in his voice. Here he was standing across from a man who had been like a brother to him for the past few years, only to have him suddenly turn on him.

"Heh heh heh! Temper, temper my "friend," I would have definitely cut you a piece of the action, that is if I knew you wouldn't be more dead weight like you always have been in the past," Viper spat.

Jake only growled in response to the insult. Normally he would not have allowed such pitiful remarks to get under his skin, but this was coming from a man he always trusted to watch his back and furthermore entrusted his life to on many occasions, and now he had just betrayed him. Anger coursed through his veins and his blood began to boil so badly he could swear he was about to explode.

"Yes, you heard me right, Jake," Viper chuckled slightly lowering his rifle, "You always were a nobody, nothing but dead weight. I took you under my wing out of the goodness of my heart and tried to make you into something, but yet you were still nothing but a weak softy! You were dead weight and I carried you! You held me back from greener pastures, that is until that fateful night back in Carcer." His face suddenly twisted into a demented grin, "You remember that night, don't you?" he asked with a sadistic wink.

How could he not remember that night? Memories of that cold, autumn night suddenly came back to him all in one fell swoop.

It was two years ago when he and Viper, along with four accomplices, Eddie, an ex-cabbie turned getaway driver, Fingers, their safecracker, and their two marksmen Tony and Fox, planned a major heist of the Carcer City Municipal Bank that had been months in the making and had been set for action come the planned day of the heist.

The five men stormed the bank and went to work doing their respective duties while Eddie waited outside a nearby alley. Everything appeared to be going their way as they had the customers gathered in one corner of the room and were piling a seemingly endless amount of bills into their bags until one of the customers had managed to trip the alarm and then all hell broke loose.

In a hail of gunfire, Viper, Tony, and Fox took down all of the hostages and then Viper led them to the back door, ordering Jake to man the rear flank and take down anybody following them, which included two police officers who had shown up almost immediately after the alarm was tripped. From there he would chase after the others into the back alley until he heard a volley of gunfire and rushed forward to find Fingers, Tony, and Fox all shot to death, with the getaway van nowhere to be found.

Only a second later would he be dropped by a shot to the chest.

The very spot he had been shot at suddenly throbbed as he remembered the incident with vivid detail, but being shot wasn't what he remembered the most. It suddenly hit him that Viper was nowhere to be found. Then it suddenly hit him.

"No..." he gasped. His blood suddenly chilled as he thought about it. How could he have been so stupid?

"I see you've caught on twice in one day and now I'm going to tell you the truth about that night. In case you are wondering yes Jake, yes it was I who shot you! Fingers...Tony...Fox...Eddie...I killed them all...I fucking killed them all!" his former best friend shouted with glee like he had just won the lottery, "I put a bullet in that fucking worthless carcass of yours 'cause I wanted you to die for your stupidity! I wanted you to die a slow, agonizing death! I was doing you a favor, boy!" Viper then suddenly went silent and his look of glee was replaced by scowl and his tone lowered to a near growl, "But no, you had to come back. You just had to come back..." The man then bared his teeth in a look of rage, "Why couldn't you just fucking die?"

Jake had heard enough and by now could barely contain his anger. Only one thought registered in his mind and that was to kill the traitor. With an unrestrained, animalistic cry he raised the rifle.

"VIPER!" he screamed at the top of his lungs as he pulled the trigger and fired wildly at his friend turned adversary.

Viper quickly dove behind a pillar and the bullets chipped away at the wood before him. Right now the young career criminal didn't care about anything else except killing the man, but before he could chase after him, the front doors opened and a squad of Cartel agents walked in guns blazing.

The more restrained, civilized side of Jake's mind regained control as the bullets flew in his direction and he would take cover behind another pillar. He looked up towards the balcony to see Tommy diving for cover as bits of wood and carpet were shredded beneath his feet on the stairs before finally crawling safely behind a large banister as the Cartel fired relentlessly upon him.

"You gonna be sorry, Yankee boy!" a Spanish-accented voice called out and he quickly turned to find a Cartel trying to get the jump on him. Fortunately, Jake was the quicker of the two and dropped him with a powerful headshot. He then looked out to see Viper firing potshots at Tommy from behind his pillar, but quickly cut him off with a few shots that chipped away at more wood near him, "Too slow, punk ass!" he taunted.

Jake knew that he would have to contain his anger and focus if he wanted to bring down the treacherous Viper and his Cartel allies, but at the same time he had to suppress his more feral side that longed for him to leap out and shred the traitor limb by limb. Peeking his head out, he cut down three more men. By now the other Cartels had taken note of his presence and began to fire in his direction, but he managed to pop out and two more were dropped by the M-4 that he wielded so accurately and with so much deadliness.

More gunfire rang out from above and he looked up to see Tommy firing down upon the invaders now joined by some of his surviving guards. The distinctive Southern drawl of Phil was heard as well as he and "Big" Mitch had now entered the estate and were assisting Tommy and Jake in taking down the attackers. "Looks like you're not so tough now, eh weasel?" he taunted back.

"Keep talking, kid," Viper snickered, untouched by Jake's taunting, "Soon these old farts will be dead and there will be nobody left to cover your ass!"

"You're going down you back-stabbing prick, even if I have to take you with me!" Jake retorted, firing another barrage that killed one Cartel and seriously wounded another.

"Is that so?" he mockingly replied.

An earth-shattering crash came from the front entrance and Jake looked over to see a bullet-proofed Patriot come charging through the front door acting as a battering ram, followed by more Cartel agents who fired an endless flurry upon the Vercetti henchmen. One Cartel agent stepped out of the Patriot armed with a minigun and fired towards the upper level, cutting down several Vercetti guards who had been unfortunate enough to stand in his way. Due to the heavy volume of gunfire, Tommy, Mitch, and Phil had all been forced to retreat further into the mansion, while Jake himself would soon be forced to make a kamikaze move out of there or else he would soon be dead. He knew Tommy would ring his neck for this, but right now he didn't have much of a choice and pulled out a hand grenade, chucking it out into the open.

"Shit! Take him down!" Viper screamed to his Cartel allies as he made a run upstairs.

"Come back here!" Jake screamed as he ran up the stairs after his adversary, free to move while the Cartels had been distracted by the grenade. The few surviving Vercetti guards popped out from their hiding spots thanks to the career criminal's distraction and began taking down their enemies at a faster pace.

Automatic fire rang out and Jake ran into a hall where several of Vercetti's guards had been cut down by the treacherous Viper, but he had managed to find three surviving guards, one of whom had been wounded in the assault.

"What the hell's up with Viper? He just killed a few of our guys!" a guard named Vinnie asked with a look of confusion.

"Long story short, he's a lying piece of shit I'm coming to snuff out!" Jake bitterly spat as he looked down at the wounded man, who had been shot in the leg and writhed in pain.

"Well I'll come with you and help you take his punk ass out," Vinnie offered, pulling the bolt back on his MP5.

Jake kicked the door open of a nearby bedroom and looked to the other guard who stood near the wounded man, "You, get him in there and guard him. Make sure none of those Cartel bastards make it this far!" The man nodded and then took his injured companion under his arm and led him into the bedroom. He then returned his attention to Vinnie, "Come on, we've got a snake to de-venomize!"

The two men quietly moved through the hall where they came across two more guards who had been shot to death by Viper and looted of their ammunition. They would also find a trail of blood that led into a small living room where another guard had apparently crawled after being shot several times. There were two more guards in the room who were sprawled out on the couches they had been reclining on and a chromed shotgun that sat in the rack over the fireplace had been removed. The bodies of two prostitutes were also present in the room and they laid on the floor not too far away from the guards, their blood turning the light tan carpet a sick red color.

More gunfire rang out and the two Vercetti henchmen entered another hallway where they found Viper in the midst of gunning down three more guards, leaving four more dead in his wake. "Don't you see, Jake? They're history, which you will soon be!" he cried as he stopped to fire a barrage at both men who quickly dove for cover into nearby alcoves.

"Don't bet on it, you lying piece of shit!" Jake growled back as he fired another volley at his enemy, tearing apart several vases, paintings, and chests that had been displayed in the hall.

Vinnie quickly stepped out and began firing at Viper, who waited for him to run out of ammo and then popped out and shot his weapon from his hands and then put a bullet in his forearm, "Ah fuck!"

"Shit! You all right man?" Jake asked as he torn a strip from the wounded guard's white slacks. Judging by the looks of things, his wounds didn't appear to be too serious at the moment, but would become fatal if left untreated overnight.

"Don't worry about me, just stop him!" Vinnie grunted as he felt the fabric being tied around his arm and then laid back in the alcove trying to make himself as small as he possibly could if any more threats showed up. Jake took note of this and gave the man a handgun he had picked up from a dead guard outside and then continued his pursuit of Viper.

The next hall Jake entered was mercifully free of dead bodies or any other signs of violence, but he was alerted by a woman's panicked whimpering as he passed a bedroom and knocked on the door, "Who's there?"

Veronica slowly opened the door and quickly threw her arms around him for a tight embrace, "Oh my goodness, thank God you're all right!" she cried. The young prostitute wore only a pink robe, but appeared to be unharmed otherwise. Jake gave her a brief nod, "Lock this door and do not open it for anybody unless it's me or Tommy!" She nodded and slammed the door shut, locking it behind her.

"Aww how cute! Protecting the damsel in distress. Always the boy scout, no natural killer instinct!" Viper taunted as he fired another burst from the exiting doorway, striking the wall as Jake quickly ducked and returned fire.

"Enjoy yourself all you can, Viper! I'm going to hang you and cut you up like the traitor you are when I get my hands on you!" Jake shouted back as he chased after the traitor and past several more Vercetti guards he had cut down. He then chased the man to the third floor and had an idea that he might be heading for the rooftop helipad, the man had to be stopped before he could escape to freedom and go unpunished for his sins.

Jake ran as fast as he could as he heard the distant sounds of rifle fire and the popping of the MP5's that Vercetti's guards carried. The additional cries indicated that they weren't showing very well against the craftier Viper. He pumped his feet as fast as he could go and entered a room where several more dead Vercetti guards were found, but did find another survivor who tossed the career criminal his remaining MP5 ammo, "Get him! Bring his punk ass down!"

In the next moment, Jake stood alone on the rooftop in the late afternoon hours facing a cruel traitor. Before him, Viper crouched behind an air conditioning unit with assault rifle ready, murderous intentions running through his mind.

"All right you greedy, traitorous son of a bitch, I'm going to end this once and for all!" Jake shouted as he fired a burst at the unit his former friend hid behind. "You took something dear from me and threw it out the window, and now I'm going to make you pay!"

"You still don't get it, do you Jake? You were a hopeless nobody. If it weren't for me, you would have either died or been in jail a long time ago!" Viper calmly replied with his own round of gunfire, forcing the younger man to dive for cover behind a stack of cardboard boxes.

The thupping of helicopter blades came from above and Jake looked up to find two Maverick helicopters encircling the helipad and right away Cartel members stuck out from both choppers and fired down upon him with MP5's, forcing him to abandon his current hiding place. With the young career criminal running around trying to avoid the bullets raining down upon him, ropes lowered from both helicopters and Cartel agents began to descend upon the helipad with weapons drawn.

The career criminal fired upon the landing men and instantly sent one to the ground bleeding and moaning. A swarm of bullets overpowered him and he was forced to hide behind the air conditioning unit that Viper had previously taken cover behind. The blazing heat of the afternoon sun glared upon Jake and he had to avoid being blinded by its rays or else the battle could shift in favor of his enemies. A heroic Cartel soldier attempted to storm his location, only to find himself on the bad end of a rifle muzzle and rewarded with a salvo of screaming lead to the face and chest. His rifle then clicked empty and he cursed to himself as he realized that he was now out of ammo for his M-4 and quickly switched over to his MP5 submachine gun.

He peeked around the unit to find Viper standing around with eight remaining Cartel agents and noticed that several of them stood ignorantly close to a grouping of explosive fuel barrels. Knowing what he could do, he took aim and was about to open fire when one of the helicopters suddenly appeared behind him and tried to open fire. Acting out of desperation, Jake fired up towards the chopper and emptied an entire clip into it, striking the man with the submachine gun and sending him falling to the helipad with a sickening splat. The helicopter retreated before he could reload, but also before he could he felt something smash into his back and he was knocked to the ground.

"Time to die, Sr. Dickhead! Soon we take over your puny empire and make it our own!" a Cartel member taunted as he had managed to get the jump on the career criminal and aimed his gun at the man's head.

Jake had to quickly push the pain aside for now as he noticed the rifle's barrel and brought his foot up to nail the man in the groin. With a pained heave, he then kipped back up to his feet and delivered a kick to the man's chest followed by an elbow tackle and then a right hook that knocked out a few of the man's teeth before he snatched his MP5 and fired a shot into the man's abdomen that would send him flying over the nearby railing and crashing to the ground below.

"Now where was I?" he asked himself as he hugged his back to the A.C. unit and then peeked out and fired a shot into the cluster of barrels. In the ensuing explosion, seemingly hundreds of human body parts flew through the air and littered the rooftop's surface.

Viper, however, was far enough from the blast radius and was only thrown backwards and dazed by the blast, blood dripping from a cut on the side of his face. He sat back up to find Jake standing before him with submachine gun raised.

"You picked the wrong side, Viper." Jake whispered and without hesitation squeezed the trigger.

For a bigger man though, Viper had lightning-quick reflexes and rolled underneath the bullets fired at him and then lunged at Jake, taking him down with a shoulder tackle that sent his former friend flying backwards. He then stood back up and attempted to bring his foot down upon the younger man's head, but Jake was quicker and rolled off to the side.

"I don't pick the wrong side you worthless moron," Viper spat, "It's you with you and your blunted principles!" he added attempting a left cross, which Jake ducked under and responded with an uppercut that knocked the man backwards.

Before Jake could capitalize upon his hand-to-hand assault, the helicopters again circled overhead, only this time a man from the first helicopter pulled out a rocket launcher and took aim at him.

"Shit!" the young career criminal cried as he saw what was happening and sprinted across the rooftop. As soon as he started running, the Cartel goon pulled the trigger and sent a screaming missile in his direction, striking Tommy's own Maverick, creating a massive explosion that rocked the rooftop of the entire mansion.

"See you in Hell, Jake!" Viper laughed as a rope ladder was lowered to him and he began to climb it and make his way to freedom. However, before he could completely reach safety, an old face he had forgotten about reappeared.

"You forgot about me you backstabbing punk!" Tommy Vercetti called out as he produced an M60 heavy machine gun and began firing upon the chopper carrying the fleeing traitor.

"Kill that old fart!" Viper screamed to the Cartel carrying the rocket launcher. The Cartel replied with a nod and trained his weapon on the aging crimelord, but then an unexpected gunshot rang out that shocked the traitor.

A bullet sailed through the air and pierced the skull of the Cartel agent, sending him falling to the helipad below. A look of disbelief crossed Viper's features as he found Jake standing tall on the opposite side of the helipad with an M-4 in hand.

"What? Can't you even die right, you annoying leech? You were lucky! We'll meet again!" Viper screamed at his former comrade and quickly leapt into the co-pilot's seat, screaming in Spanish at the pilot to take off.

"VIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPEEEEEERRRR!" Jake screamed into the sky firing everything he had at the chopper until his clip ran dry. Their problems were not over yet as the other Maverick remained and pelted the concrete around Jake with submachine gun fire, but thankfully Tommy was there to back him up and let loose upon the chopper, striking its windshield and killing the pilot, sending it spinning out of control before it struck the ground below in an awe-inspiring blast of white heat and sent shivers of explosions through the air, which also caused some superficial damage to the outer exterior of the mansion.

"Dammit, that fucking slimy traitor got away!" Tommy spat next to Jake throwing the M60 down on the charred helipad. His fancy suit was now reduced to a bunch of tattered rags and covered in blood and grime. He looked like he had been sent through a blender and had barely made it out with his skin intact.

Jake sat down on his knees staring directly at the blackened surface beneath him. A million thoughts raced through his mind as he struggled to control his emotions after being betrayed by the very man who was like a brother to him. He wanted blood and he wanted it now after what had just happened, not to mention revenge for everybody else who had just fallen as a result of Viper's betrayal.

"Jake!" a feminine voice called out. He looked up to see Veronica running towards him, followed closely by Phil, Mitch, and two other guards. The quartet was shortly after followed by Ken, Mercedes, Paul, and Avery. The young prostitute immediately threw her arms around the young criminal and the others surrounded both him and Tommy.

"What in the sam hill just happened 'round here?" Avery demanded in his thick drawl as he surveyed the charred helipad and noticed all of the dead bodies and dismembered parts lying around.

"We've got a damned traitor in our midst," Jake growled as he slowly rose back to his feet and then stared at everybody around him with a look of sheer hatred in his cold, dark eyes that spooked even the hardened war veteran Phil and the big, rugged biker Mitch. "That bastard Viper took our friendship and flushed it down the toilet and I intend to make him pay."

More footsteps pounded the steps leading to the helipad and the group turned to find a guard clad in a grimy outfit running towards them, "Mr. Vercetti, we've captured one of the attackers! I think we might be able to make him talk!"

The news brought a sudden glimmer of hope for the coke baron and he looked over to his battered associate, who returned a determined gaze that told him they might be able to finally dig up some information on the Cartel's whereabouts in Vice, "Let's go." he said with his eyes narrowed and followed the guard down the stairs.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake and Tommy walked through a battle-scarred mansion covered with bullethole-stitched walls, shattered windows, broken down doors, destroyed furniture, and littered with the dead bodies of both Vercetti guards and Cartel henchmen. Both men then moved through the main hall where Tommy's surviving henchmen had already begun to collect the bodies of their fallen comrades. The room itself was already a mess enough without the bodies present and was littered with tons of spent ammo casings and clips, along with several portions of the floor that had been covered by black pock marks after Jake had tossed grenades at his Cartel adversaries. The bullet-proofed Patriot the Cartel had used as a battering ram was still parked where it had been before and remained untouched, aside from the driver being torn from the vehicle and beaten to death for his troubles. The duo then moved through the wrecked front entrance and out onto the front lawn, where the burnt-out shells of several Cartel Cruisers remained along with a few that had been shot up and covered in blood, but not destroyed. Several portions of the grass had been dug up by explosions, including several caused by explosive fuel canisters that had been detonated. Once again, the ground was littered with the corpses of both Vercetti henchmen and Cartel members, their blood turning most of the finely treated green grass a dark blood red that made the grass look dead. That was the very least of their worries though as the two men had found what they came for.

Standing beneath a tree on the lawn, a lone Cartel member stood with his hands raised high in the air surrounded by several Vercetti guards armed with MP5's. The man's blue jeans had been torn in several places and his Hawaiian shirt was covered with blood and filth. His ten gallon hat was also nowhere to be found, exposing his balding head beneath that was covered with a major cut that had blood oozing down his face. When the man laid eyes upon Jake he immediately paled.

"You!" Jake cried as he charged towards the man and drew back his fist, sending the overweight man flying backwards into the tree behind him. He then drove his fist into the man's bulbous gut and gave him a powerful backhand that broke the man's nose and sent blood gushing down the rest of his face. Having inflicted enough pain upon the man for now he threw him back against the tree with enough force to break off a few pieces of bark. "All right you worthless piece of shit! Tell me where the hell that traitorous bastard Viper went to or else I'm going to knock your teeth down your throat so you can chew your own ass out!" he roared as he grabbed the man by the collar and raised his fist again to scare the man.

"No!" the man cried before muttering some gibberish in Spanish as tears rolled down his bloody face, which earned him a knee to the gut followed by a few jabs to the face before he was now a black and blue mess in addition to all of the blood.

"Tell me what the fuck I want to know, or else you're going to be getting your eyes gouged out with your own tibia!" Jake hissed grabbing the man by his throat and pressing his fingertips to the point where they were leaving black marks. The other Vercetti henchmen stood off to the side and watched what went down. They instinctively knew that it would not be wise to interfere in the raging career criminal's affairs and would probably end up dead themselves.

"Little Haiti!" the man finally screamed, "Our main SPANK factory is in Little Haiti! Near the docks on Bridson St. in the old import and export garage!"

Right in the heart of Haitian territory Jake thought to himself. Tommy had told him about how the Haitians were a huge thorn in his side back in the late '80s up until the early '90s when Auntie Poulet died. The gang had been in large disarray since and were probably looking for somebody who could lead them back to their former prominence, which could possibly explain why they would allow the Colombian Cartel of all people to set up shop in their territory.

"Okay, I told you what you wanted to know! Can I go now?" the man pleaded, wetting himself in the process.

Jake released his grip on the man and slowly backed away looking off to the side. The Cartel was relieved by the young man's sudden change of heart and began laughing nervously.

It was then that a smirk crossed his features and he drew his gun, firing a single shot into the man before he had the chance to cry out.

Tommy surveyed all of the damage that had been done to his property and then looked at his wounded men and then back to Phil, "Phil, take that bullet-proof Patriot those clowns brought with them and round up as many of the wounded as you can. Get them over to Dr. Sneed and have him see what he can do. Mitch, round up your boys and patrol the streets for those Cartel bozos. The rest of you, I want half of you to clean this place up, the other half I want you to prepare for battle, we've got a snake in the grass to catch!" It was then that the coke baron felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Let me go after him," Jake demanded with narrowed eyes glaring daggers at his employer, "I trusted that man and he did this to me. Nobody wants his blood more than I do!"

The crimelord looked deeply into his charge's eyes and saw all the pain and anger burning within his soul. He understood the man's plight as he too had been betrayed by a man who was supposed to be his most trusted ally years ago and felt his desire for revenge. At the same time though, he worried about the man being driven solely by raw emotion, which could come back to haunt him if he wasn't careful. It was only with deep thought that he cautiously gave his approval.

"Okay...Do what you have to do!" 


	18. Flashback Pt 3: Graveyard Shift

Darkness Arises by E-Z B

Author's Note: Well this is it folks, the final installment of the Vice City flashback where Jake goes to confront his treacherous former best friend once and for all. I appreciate all the reviews and feel good to have finally brought all of you something many have been dying for, a look into Jake's troubled past. I assure you that this will not be the last of the chapters where we peer into his past, but for now after this chapter is over, the events of Raccoon City will resume. Until then, on with the story!

Flashback Pt. 3: Graveyard Shift

Night had now fallen over Vice City. It had been eight hours since the battle at the Vercetti Estate and it was now slightly after midnight. Black clouds concealed the moon behind a wall of fluff, darkening much of the cityscape below, creating the perfect atmosphere for a night-time assault.

In the darkened waters near Little Haiti, a lone Tropic fishing boat sailed through the desolate waters towards an as of yet unknown destination. Onboard were two men of Italian-American descent who wore bright Hawaiian shirts that made them both look like tourists, truly out of place in a rough part of town in Vice at this time of night.

At the moment, the boat's pilot had a pair of binoculars out and was carefully scanning the nearby docks for any visible threats and then looked back to his passenger who stared off into the distance blankly, "Tell him to get ready."

The other man nodded in reply and then opened the door to the lower cabin, "Jake, get ready we're almost there."

Jake Cavanaugh sat on a small bunk down in the boat's cabin leaning forward with his hands clasped in front of him and looking down at the floor beneath him. He had since discarded his usual outfit and now wore a black ninja-like sneaking suit that made him look more like a covert operative than a street criminal, consisting of a black long-sleeved top, black cargo pants, a Kevlar bullet-proof vest, knee pads, elbow pads, plain black gloves, and special shoes designed to reduce the amount of sound generated by footsteps. At his side lay a black ski mask and pair of night-vision goggles. Upon hearing his name he looked up and slowly turned to face his colleague, displaying the same hateful look he had been wearing for hours since he was betrayed by his best friend. The man said nothing and gathered his weapons, which included a silenced Beretta 9mm. pistol, silenced sniper rifle, combat knife, and fiber wire. He also grabbed a bag full of satchel charges sitting on a nearby counter and then pulled his mask over his head and positioned his night-vision goggles so he would easily be able to pull them down when needed.

These past eight hours had been long and difficult for the young criminal as he struggled to control his emotions. He had just been betrayed by the man who was like a brother to him, a man whom he had committed several major crimes with in the past, a man who he trusted with everything he had, and then he went and pulled this on him.

Immediately after the attack on the Vercetti Estate was when he started to prepare himself for what could very well be a final confrontation. He had no intention of letting his former best friend walk out alive. These past eight hours he had spent gathering weapons and ammunition, studying layouts of Little Haiti and the factory the Cartel member had mentioned, and training harder that he ever had in quite a while, destroying most of the workout equipment in the estate's gym in the process. By now he had calmed down a little and was able to function with greater mental faculty, but the images of Viper's betrayal still lingered in his mind and there had been a couple of points where he struggled to suppress an outburst, but would eventually smash anything nearby when he couldn't. He wanted blood and if he couldn't spill the blood of his former friend, then he would certainly kill a lot of Cartel members tonight he thought to himself as he stepped out onto the outer platform and approached the two Vercetti henchmen.

"Robbie, did you see any of those punks walking around outside?" Jake asked approaching Robbie, the henchman who had been scanning the docks for potential threats.

"Yeah, I saw about ten to twelve of those bums on the ground and six or eight up on the roof. I also spotted some Cartel Cruisers showing up and it looked like they were escorting some delivery trucks. They must have a shipment about to go out or something," the henchman spoke trying to avoid looking directly at Jake. Despite wearing a ski mask, he knew that the career criminal wore a grim, vengeful expression underneath and his cold, steely blue-gray eyes gave everything away.

"Any sign of Viper?" the criminal asked, his tone dripping acid as he spoke the man's nickname.

"No sign of him anywhere. Hopefully he hasn't decided to skip out on us knowing that you're out to get him now," Robbie replied carefully not wanting to set Jake off and thus end up being tossed into the water below, he wasn't that good of a swimmer.

"He'll be there. I know it," Jake spoke bluntly as he stared towards the factory in the distance. The old factory was well-lit, making it stand out amongst the other decrepit warehouses and factories, most of which were probably long forgotten by now. He had raided plenty of seemingly abandoned warehouses in the past and his intuition could always tell him when something fishy was going on there or not. Knowing their base of operations spelled definite doom for the Colombian Cartel and he was ready to make sure of that. "Be on the lookout for any vehicles that really stand out," he ordered as he approached the other henchman.

"Billy, did you get a hold of Umberto and his boys?" he asked Billy, who had been responsible for contacting the other friendly gangs for backup.

"Of course. The boss knew something big would probably go down after that assault on the estate. He told me to get a hold of Umberto and round up some of his boys and then told me to call up some of "Big" Mitch's boys. They should be nearby and they've got orders to move in once you start shooting. We got a bunch of guys from the estate on their way here too. Either way, we're bound to get our hands on the back-stabbing prick Viper."

"Good, now if you'll excuse me, I've got a snake to de-venomize."

With those words, Jake dove into the darkened water and began his swim towards the Cartel-controlled factory.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"We're almost there," the Cartel goon called out from the frontseat.

Viper sat in the backseat of a bullet-proof Sentinel en route to the former import and export garage located on Bridson St. deep in the heart of Little Haiti. His SPAS-12 assault shotgun rested on his lap and at the same time he had both a Desert Eagle and Beretta 9mm. handgun in his waist holsters. His hand grenades had also been replenished and he now carried five in addition to two combat knives he kept concealed in shin holsters. The three other Cartel members in the car traded their traditional AK-47 assault rifles for the more powerful Colt M-4's and all carried either regular handguns or submachine guns as sidearms. The trunk of the car contained a few extra M-4's, two additional combat shotguns, three MP5 submachine guns, and even a rocket launcher. They knew escaping from Vice City was going to be difficult, especially when two of their top adversaries still survived.

The Cartel had failed its objective of eliminating Tommy Vercetti, mostly due in part to the interference of Jake Cavanaugh. Failing to eliminate both men had greatly jeopardized the organization's operations so right now the plan was to gather up all the SPANK and chemicals they could and escape from the city to the relative safety of the Colombian jungles where they would be able to continue their SPANK production without the intrusion of rival gangs and their government connections would also ensure no raids from the established government forces.

Viper on the other hand had his own ideas.

The criminal knew that his presence in a well-known criminal organization like the Cartel was endangering his own safety, so once most of the Cartel members had made their temporary retreat back to Colombia, he would branch off and go looking elsewhere for mercenary work and right now he could think of plenty of places to go, but each option also had its own downside.

First there was Carcer City, a rundown urban cesspool located not too far away from Liberty City, which was another primary stronghold for the Cartel. It had a corrupt police force that very rarely dealt with the Cartel and also had citizens so accustomed to violence he could probably waltz right out onto Main St. in broad daylight and blast somebody without creating too much of a scene. The downside though were the numerous street gangs which littered the city's crumbling back alleys and decrepit structures located all over the rough parts of town, especially the truly insane gangs like the Smileys and the Innocentz, their wild, unpredictable behavior could spell a lot of troubles for him if he were to pursue freelance work there, not to mention the numerous rumored surviving associates of the murdered snuff film director Lionel Starkweather, who were possibly trying to revive his disbanded snuff film ring.

Then there was Las Venturas, a city of sin and corruption filled with numerous casinos, strip clubs and other morally questionable activities that could keep him occupied for quite awhile. There Viper had connections with the current owners of the Caligula's Palace casino, who could ensure him plenty of well paying work and adventure. Unfortunately, it was also the scene of an ongoing gang war between the Leone Family Mafia and their Triad adversaries who operated the Chinese-themed Four Dragons Casino not too far away from the aforementioned Caligula's. Jake had plenty of connections in that city thanks to some work he had done for the Triad leader Wu Zi Mu and his close business associate Carl Johnson. If word had gotten out to them about what had just occurred here in Vice, then chances were he would have both of those men and their associates out for his head right away.

In San Fierro he had connections to the Da Nang Boys and was involved with the Rifas and their employers in the Loco Syndicate until it was single-handedly brought down by Carl Johnson himself, who also maintained a strong presence in that city as well. Not only was the presence of Carl Johnson a threat to him as well, but he also wanted to stay as far away from the "gay" Queens district as possible after he had mistakenly wandered into the Gaydar Station dance club and was immediately hounded by a flock of patrons.

London also seemed like it contained an endless amount of possibilities for a career criminal like himself, but naturally he would have to go through a lot to sneak past customs and it was also rumored that the shady government operative Mike Toreno had dealings there as well.

Liberty City, Washington City, Lincoln City, Jefferson, and Roosevelt were all definite no-go's because they were cities in which Jake still had a lot of surviving contacts present who would be all over him like ants to honey if Jake had managed to reach out to any of them.

Being a criminal for most of his life Viper had trained himself to show no fear or remorse for his actions. Most individuals in his line of work did it for the payoff, but not Tyler Denton, he did it for the sheer thrill and truly felt alive when performing a dangerous task whenever a mob boss commanded. Whether it be eliminating a rival boss, silencing a witness for a corrupt police officer, delivering an illegal shipment while avoiding the authorities, or just plain blowing stuff up - that was what he got off on and the money he received was merely an added incentive. Having endured his fair share of battle scars, he knew that he was not impervious to harm but still the lure of dancing around death fueled his daredevil-like nature and he believed that he could perform any task without hindrance.

However, Jake Cavanaugh came along and shattered that illusion.

Jake Cavanaugh was barely an adult when Viper first discovered him a few years back. The kid had gotten into a messy barroom brawl after he used his gambling skills to relieve a biker gang leader of his hard earned cash and was close to being killed until the older criminal grabbed a pool stick and fought off his assailants with both men barely escaping from the establishment alive.

Once the two men finally had a chance to talk it was then that Jake had told the man of his rough childhood and that tragic night where he had lost both of his parents. At first Viper felt genuinely sorry for his young companion having gone through an upbringing similar to his and was even reminded of his deceased younger brother when he looked at the man. Not only that, he detected a keen sharpness usually possessed by a man much older and sensed that the young man could be molded into a lethal killing machine if trained properly.

For over two years both men went on a major crime spree that had taken them through several states and had them working for a number of different employers and it was there that Viper began to detect his partner's weakness.

Unlike him, Jake was held down by his own code of honor where he never attacked innocent bystanders, especially children, and he believed that held the man back from being a truly effective cold-blooded killer and reducing him to dead weight. Something had to be done and would eventually happen when he shot the younger man during that botched bank robbery attempt and left him to die.

He never expected him to survive and went about his criminal ways, venturing into Washington City where he would begin his association with the Colombian Cartel. It was also there he would be reunited with his former friend and would have to carry on the charade of still being loyal to him. Not a moment went by where he didn't want to around and put a bullet in the man's skull. Unfortunately, this was a time where both of them were working for the rising mob boss Anthony Cappelli, who by then had acquired enough assets to become a serious threat and would be able to easily strike at him if he were to go through with it. For several months Viper had been forced to bite his tongue and hold back the urge to kill Jake until he "disappeared" to Roosevelt where he helped the Cartel reassemble as they readied themselves for their next big assault. Only a few weeks ago did he reappear in Jake's life and now he was finally able to turn on his former ally and boy did it feel good.

Strangely enough, there was a small voice in the back of his head that expressed concern after he watched how Jake lashed out with pure, unbridled aggression when his treachery was revealed. He knew deep down that he had just awakened a sleeping giant whom he was foolish enough to believe would not strike back as hard as he thought he would. It was a rude awakening and he was going to pay for it if he didn't get out of Vice fast enough.

Bringing his mind back to the present, Viper looked around at the three other Cartel members present who were strangely silent, acting like they could sense his thoughts. He tried to avoid eye contact with them as he looked out onto the streets where the prostitutes milled about looking for customers, late night workers taking breaks, and bums either stumbled about drunkenly, pushed shopping carts filled with their personal belongings, or were passed out in the heaps of garbage. He thought to himself that he probably should have just killed the Maverick's pilot and flown away to another state. But no, they wanted to ditch the chopper so they wouldn't arouse as much suspicion and wanted to get their merchandise packed up before leaving. Screw the merchandise he thought, he wanted to get out of there before the Vercetti henchmen would have time to regroup, especially knowing right now that his own forces were too crippled to stay behind and mount an offensive against their wounded adversaries.

Then there was Jake specifically. The younger criminal looked like a punk, but now it was known that he wasn't as weak as he looked and he would have to be dealt with using lethal force, no other options. Thinking of the younger man's possible attack caused Viper to look down at his weapons. He was confident that he could eliminate his former friend with great ease, maybe not such great ease, but for sure he would make the man's death a very gory spectacle to behold.

"We're here!" the driver said directly to Viper and then muttered something in Spanish to the other two men in the car.

"Finally," Viper thought to himself. He could only hope that most of the "merchandise" was packed up already. It was probably a far off thought, but all he really cared about was getting away. If he had to, he would steal the remaining Maverick and fly away to freedom.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Get ready boys, Viper's here!" shouted an unseen Cartel member.

Jake's head perked up at the mention of his former friend's name. The Cartel goon he killed earlier had been telling the truth, now he knew his trip to this former Haitian stronghold was not in vain after all.

The career criminal had recently emerged from the cold waters of Vice Bay and was quietly blending in with the shadows, waiting to make his first move as he watched several guards walk by. He listened intently as another guard shouted something in Spanish to a man who stood in front of him. He did not understand much Spanish, but he did overhear that the man's name was Alfredo and from tidbits he remembered from his days in his high school Spanish class, the other man said something about him staying put.

Alberto stood impatiently at the edge of the dock staring out into the darkened, fog shrouded waters of Vice Bay mumbling something to himself in his native tongue, completely unaware of the shadow-like figure creeping up behind him. He figured he would release some tension and reached into his shirt pocket for one of his cigars and then into his pants for a lighter.

Within the blink of an eye, Jake had jumped the distracted goon and placed him in a headlock and then with a flick of his wrist, the man's life was ended.

Alberto's lifeless corpse fell to the pavement with a confused look upon its face, never knowing what had ended its life. Blood quickly poured out of its neck wound and ruined the man's Hawaiian shirt and then dripped onto the concrete, fortunately leaving very few blood stains behind.

Looking around for any possible threats, Jake quickly scooped up the fallen guard's M-4 assault rifle along with the extra clips and then searched the dead man's body for any additional items and decided to take his lighter. Knowing that the presence of a dead body lying in the open would send everybody on full alert, he quickly scooped up the man's body and tossed it into the water. Unfortunately, the splash caught the attention of two other guards.

"Who dere? Show yourself yankee trash!" shouted an incoming Cartel member who stormed into the area with M-4 raised followed closely by another who carried an MP5 submachine gun.

Hiding quietly in a shadowy corner Jake raised his silenced pistol and dropped the thug with the M-4 while his partner's back was turned. The man sagged to the ground with a loud thud scaring the crap out of his partner. The other Cartel goon didn't even had time to cry out as he was met with a round to the face.

Stepping out into the light, Jake looked down upon his latest victims and shook his head, "Not the last of these bothersome worms. I have so much work ahead of me before I can finally get my hands on that traitorous bastard Viper," he spat, his brow furrowing a little as he mentioned his former best friend's nickname.

Jake proceeded to find hiding places for the dead bodies and then made his way further into the complex. He knew he would have to go through a lot in order to reach Viper and by now most of his patience had returned so he would be able to wait a little longer. Things would go through smoothly as long as he could keep out of sight.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Viper sat quietly in the warehouse office with shotgun in hand, looking outside at the work going on in the yard below. He let out a barely audible grunt as they were commanded to gather up all of the merchandise before they could leave. The hired gun wanted to get the hell out of dodge because right now they were sitting ducks leaving themselves open for another attack. The Colombian Cartel had SPANK labs all over the country, they could do with one small lab being lost. It wasn't like it would be the end of the world just because they left a few small pounds behind. Besides, if the cops found it, they have plenty of contacts in local law enforcement who could personally see to it that the evidence was properly discarded.

Carefully looking away from the scene below, he turned to find an office full of heavily armed Cartel thugs and seated at the center of the room one Armando Villareal, the leader of the Colombian Cartel's Vice City division.

Unlike his American counterpart, the Colombian higher-up stared at the activities outside with a look of joy upon his pudgy face. To him, these men were doing their part to help the empire he belonged to, even if it meant they had to abruptly shut down their operations and move on to a different location. He knew wherever he went he would always hold a position of power, so it was natural for him to be optimistic at a time like this. Born to a family of dirt poor farmers, Armando had to fight tooth and nail for his spot as a leader and left a hefty trail of death and destruction in his wake. It was only natural that he would be power hungry and declare war on anybody who threatened his spot.

"They move with great efficiency, do you not agree mi amigo?" Armando asked walking towards Viper, accompanied by two guards who were ready to take a bullet for him if any would-be assassins decided to take a shot at him.

"Yeah, sure..." Viper replied with faked interest. He knew that the Cartel was weakened within Vice and wanted to escape to a place where they could round up fresh men and resources.

The Cartel leader sensed his associate's act and gave him a blank stare, "You do not seem certain with your answer. Let me assure you that our empire is constantly growing thanks to SPANK and our other lucrative 'side businesses.' You are right in assuming that we have had some setbacks regarding the Liberty and Washington City incidents, but you need not worry too long. Those were just minor battles compared to what we else we have going for us. We are a growing empire my boy, we must not let a few bothersome flies prevent us from attaining our destiny. Soon we will have all the power in not just this country, but the entire world as well.

Viper continued to stare at the work yard below, attempting to hide his disbelieving gaze from his employer. Even he was realistic enough to figure out this man's delusions of grandeur. To take over the entire world he would need to find ways to manipulate all the governments and armies, an impossible task. 

For once in his life he was starting to think maybe he had made the wrong decision in aligning himself with the Colombian Cartel. Sure his alliance had its material benefits: the money, the expensive escorts, the fancy cars, the luxurious condominium in Waupun Hills, and much more, but on a mental level he felt something was seriously wrong with the way some of his teammates behaved. They all acted as if they were truly invincible and fazed by nothing, an attitude that would get all of them killed eventually.

If the Cartel wasn't a motley crew of lowly street criminals like it had been with the bank robbery back in Carcer, then he would have wasted a whole lot of them a while back. Just the thought of that made him think of how he put that bullet in Jake's chest before he took off. He looked down at the shotgun he held in his hands and pondered future possibilities.

"Maybe I might have to put a bullet in somebody else tonight," he smirked looking back in Armando's direction. It would be an act that would get him in a lot of hot water, but he had contacts elsewhere who could get him new identity papers and some possible side work while laying low for the time being.

"I'm gonna see how the boys are doing. Been a while since I've had a report," Armando spoke pulling out his cell phone and dialing the number of one of his top grunts stationed outside.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake ejected the spent bolt casing as he watched the lone guard on the catwalk above him strike the concrete with a sickening crack. This had been his ninth victim claimed since he began his siege of the Cartel stronghold and he was getting closer to the inside where he had hoped to find his former friend and ice him once and for all after what he had done.

An electronic ringing came from the man's body and the young criminal searched him to find a Hokia cellular phone. Knowing that it was probably one of his colleagues, Jake grabbed the phone and chucked it out as far as he could into the icy water. Sure it would bring about some unwanted attention, but he was ready to deal with any shmucks who were stupid enough to wander his way.

"Oh shit!" another voice shouted.

He spoke too soon as he whirled around to find another Cartel member dropping his beverage and struggling with his Colt M-4. The younger career criminal was the quicker of the two as he raised his silenced pistol and three rounds into the man's chest.

"You got distracted, Jake" he mentally scolded himself as he quickly kicked aside the spent rounds and then scooped up the fallen Cartel's body and placed it as quietly as he could in the nearest dumpster. He was starting to get sloppy with his kills, straying far away from the silent, clean execution methods he had learned from numerous fellow gang members. Numerous bloodstains had been left behind from his previous kills, but in a way he felt he had nothing to lose and was almost daring the Cartels to find him.

Jake continued to move silently through the shadows as he searched for a way into the main warehouse where he believed his former friend to be hiding out. The place had been more heavily guarded than he thought it would as he made close observations of the guard's movements to see that the made their rounds every few seconds and had more than one stationed in a certain area at all times. Right now he was very fortunate to have his sneaking suit on and would have plenty of time left to sneak. He switched on his night-vision goggles and crept through an open window leading into a small generator building, getting an idea.

"I knew these would come in handy," he said to himself withdrawing a satchel charge from his pack and placed it in the middle of a bank of large generators. He wanted to create the biggest explosion he possibly could and had plenty more where that came from, hell he could level all of Little Haiti with what he had. Voices rang out from a nearby room. Apparently he was next to a rest quarters, but could not make out much of the conversation because the gang members had been speaking in their native tongue, chances were high though that it either involved him or the rest of the Vercetti Empire in general. It didn't matter much to him, soon they would all be deep fried in one huge cookout.

Silently stalking through the darkened building, Jake peered out a cracked window to spot a parked semi and a bunch of Cartels, aided by Haitian gang members, loading large crates into the trailer which he assumed was probably SPANK. Observing the guards, he saw that they mainly carried M-4's and MP5's, along with two guards who kept a watchful eye from above armed with PSG-1 sniper rifles. It would be a good idea to plant one of the satchel charges on the truck, but he would have to create a distraction for the guards and he looked further down the alley and got an idea.

At the end of an alley sat a parked Rancher with nobody around it. The career criminal slipped out into the alley darting his gaze back and forth between the S.U.V. and the guards around the semi at the end, moving quicker thanks to his specially treated shoes. Carefully avoiding the puddles, Jake moved about until he felt the surface of the large vehicle and carefully made his way over to the driver's side door. Luckily, the door was unlocked and he found a flashlight specifically designed for being attached to a submachine gun and took it. Other than that, he found a few empty boxes of 9mm. bullets and some discarded food wrappers. The keys were nowhere to be found, but that did not stop him as he was about to do something he had done plenty of times before.

"Hope you damned Cartels like street pizza," Jake muttered aloud as he ripped out some wires from underneath the steering wheel and started going to work. Thanks to his previous experience, within seconds sparks crackled and the vehicle roared with life.

A Cartel foreman disguised as a dock worker stood atop some wooden crates barking out orders at his subordinates in Spanish. As per ordered, they were ordered to round up all of the merchandise they could and would store their SPANK in the nearest designated hiding place they could find until it was safe for them to return to Colombia.

He stared down at several Haitian gang members who patrolled the area for them. They had been of invaluable help to the Cartel during their stay in Vice and Sr. Villareal had promised the Haitians as soon as they had gathered up some new men and resources, they would come back to Vice and help the Haitians regain the glory they had once possessed until Tommy Vercetti came to town.

Unsatisfied with the rate his henchmen were moving at, the foreman roared at his troops and fired upon the concrete around them hoping to scare them into speeding up. The bark of the gunfire however blocked out another sound heading in his direction.

The squealing of tires filled the air and the foreman diverted his attention to a nearby alley where he was suddenly blinded by bright lights enveloping him and several henchmen down on the ground. It would be the last sight he would ever see as a Rancher that belonged to one of the Haitians came speeding head on and collided with him head on.

For the first time in many hours, Jake smiled, proud that he had managed to ice a few bothersome Cartel members, a little "practice session" for when he has his final confrontation with his hated adversary. He listened closely as the Cartels and Haitians shouted amongst themselves trying to make sense of what was going on. With the henchmen distracted, he quietly opened the semi's driver side door and slipped in another satchel charge. After his little distraction, he had managed to eliminate both of the snipers with carefully placed shots and looked back making sure their corpses would not be spotted from the ground. More footsteps were heard and the criminal whirled around bumping into another Cartel member. Fortunately, Jake was much quicker than the man and pulled out his fiber wire and placed it over the man's windpipe before he could call out for help.

"You're coming with me fatass," the career criminal hissed as he dragged the man backwards, but was cut off by the cocking of assault rifles.

Quickly placing himself behind the guard, he turned around again to find two rifle-toting henchmen standing before him. Smirking beneath his mask, he tossed the burly man into his two colleagues and pulled out his silenced pistol, killing all three men with quiet headshots. Unfortunately, his troubles didn't end there.

"We've got an intruder!" screamed a Cartel guard who wasted no time firing upon their newly-discovered adversary.

"So much for a smooth kill," Jake sighed to himself as numerous guards began firing upon him simultaneously. He found himself rolling around, sidestepping, and ducking behind cover as numerous streams of hot lead were fired in his direction. Taking cover behind another stack of crates, he withdrew his newly-acquired M-4 and began firing at the henchmen, dropping none but forcing them to take cover. Peering off to the side, Jake spotted a Cartel goon coming at him on a forklift with forks up. He noticed a red oil drum nearby and fired a round, creating an explosion that sent the forklift flying and destroyed several crates of SPANK.

"Stop 'im! He's destroyin' the merchandise!" another guard frantically shouted and was joined by several Haitians armed with submachine guns. It was quite ironic as they fired upon him for they were only endangering the product they fought so valiantly to guard when it spilled from the wooden crates around their intended target.

Jake bobbed and weaved around the haphazardly placed crates, encountering a Cartel or Haitian with every turn who would quickly fall before his assault rifle. "I'm not letting you bastards stop me from getting at that punk's head!" he said to himself. He turned another corner behind a Mule delivery truck and gunned down two Haitians before he was forced to stop and reload. Quickly ejected the spent clip, he slammed in a new one and pulled the bolt back with enough force to nearly rip it from the rifle, only to find himself jumped again.

"Where do ya' think yer goin' Yankee boy?" an accented voice called out from behind. Before Jake could spin around, he felt the heavy butt of an M-4 colliding with the side of his face and was knocked to hard concrete landing on the back of his head into a large puddle.

"Fuckin' A!" the young career criminal grunted as he felt the pain rush from his head to the rest of his body. He desperately wanted to feel the side of his face to make sure that no bones had been broken, but right now it was impossible as several guards stood over him with guns trained on his head.

"Say goodnight Yankee trash!" one of the guards taunted and cocked his rifle ready to fire.

KA-BOOOOOOOOMMMMM!

"What the hell was that?" another Cartel called out as an explosion followed by the sounds of shrieking metal and booming motorcycle engines filled the air.

With the timely distraction, Jake saw an opportunity and quickly pulled out the detonator for his satchel charges, "Hey Sr. Dickhead!" he shouted wanting to see the look on the guards' faces before they died. They looked down upon him again, this time with looks of horror as they saw the detonator in hand. "Sweet dreams," he taunted and then pressed the button.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Explosions rocked the foundation all around the old warehouse, causing many people in the office to lose their balance.

"What the hell is going on out there?" Armando called out, struggling to maintain the grip on his polished oak desk as the explosions continued outside. He shouted orders in Spanish to the guards ordering them to remain put, but they wanted to go outside and find out what was going on. By now many guards outside were probably dead and trying to contact them would be a futile effort.

Viper stood near the main window looking out into the courtyard. Strangely, nothing seemed to faze him, not the bright explosions nor even the bullets pelting the building around the window. He stood there unmoving in an almost hypnotic trance watching the events unfold before him. The roar of motorcycles filled the air and he looked towards the main gates where a familiar gang of bikers began piling into the demolished courtyard, gunning down Cartel and Haitians indiscriminately with whatever guns they had, followed closely by a convoy of Cuban Hermes gang cars containing heavily armed Cubans piling out and firing upon their adversaries.

All of this action brought only one name to mind.

"Jake..."

Armando quickly reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a Colt .45 handgun and was then handed an M-4 by one of his nearest henchmen. The other guards had swept through the nearby armory and were armed with assault rifles, submachine guns, and assault shotguns, including one with a minigun and another with a rocket launcher. "Come on chicos, let's slaughter every last one of those rat bastards! Send a message to whoever sent those fuckers loud and clear!"

"Cavanaugh," Viper said slowly turning around, "those bastards were led here by Jake Cavanaugh, no doubt about it," he added pumping his shotgun.

The Cartel leader smiled, "Since this is your mess Mr. Denton, I will allow you to personally deal with Mr. Cavanaugh himself."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake took cover behind some sandbags loading another fresh clip into his assault rifle. His reinforcements had just arrived and by now the tides were about to turn in his favor. Pulling back his rifle bolt, he was joined by two individuals. The first was an older white man with a long gray goatee and wearing a red bandana atop his bald head. This man was Cougar, one of "Big" Mitch's top lieutenants. Next to him was a shorter man of Cuban descent wearing a red headband and white t-shirt, this was Rico, one of Umberto Robina's lieutenants within the Cuban gang and a known boat expert.

"What's up?"

"Mr. V told us you could use a hand. We happened to be in the area and heard all the racket and there was no way in blackest Hell you're going to have a party without the Bikers!" Cougar chimed proudly displaying his SPAS-12 assault shotgun.

"Those damned Haitians be causin' trouble again in Little Havana. We came to teach them a little lesson," Rico added withdrawing dual Micro MP5's.

"You couldn't have showed up at a better time," Jake retorted pausing as a hail of gunfire struck the sandbags protecting him, "I'm gonna need you guys to hold off these losers for me. I've got a snake to catch."

"Can do, son! After this stop by the Greasy Chopper and we'll give you drinks on the house!" Cougar shouted over the gunfire.

The young career criminal nodded and flung himself over the sandbags, landing with a roll along the concrete and rose up firing at some Haitian snipers who had positioned themselves on the charred remnants of a garage near the generator building. He quickly took out one of the snipers and was about to fire upon the other when he heard the familiar fizzling of an airborne rocket and quickly dover for cover.

KA-BOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!

A large explosion took out several transport trucks and another small garage, barely catching Jake in the blast radius. Luckily for him he had managed to find shelter behind a large metal container, but a few Bikers and Cubans hadn't been as fortunate as the ground around him was littered with their severed body parts. More gunfire rang out and through a small opening he had managed to spot Cartel reinforcements arriving with heavy artillery, including a minigun and a rocket launcher. The Cartel began fighting back with a renewed vigor, immediately taking down several more Bikers and Cuban reinforcements.

"Come on out Cavanaugh, we know you're behind all of this!" the Cartel wielding the minigun called out and then firing another barrage at some Cubans below, taking out several of their Hermes gang cars.

"So those bastards know it's me despite my new wardrobe. Didn't know I had that many fans. No doubt Viper's doing." Jake again withdrew his silenced sniper rifle and aimed through the small opening. Taking a deep breath he steadied his aim and pulled the trigger, dropping the man to the concrete below. Unfortunately, that kill caught the attention of the Cartel with the rocket launcher and he fired a rocket in the criminal's direction.

KA-BOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Viper ran down the hall with assault shotgun in hand making his way towards the lower level garage. He was positive that Jake was probably somewhere out there still alive, knowing that his lesser trained Cartel cronies would probably be no match for a master criminal like him. Only he was probably on the same skill level to go head-to-head with Jake and he wanted to take him out for ruining his plans here in Vice. However, things would not be as easy with those reinforcements of his running around so he wanted to get down and grab the bullet-proofed Sentinel he had arrived in. If he couldn't go at Jake head on, then he would turn him into street pizza.

Kicking open a door that stood in his way, he entered a hall where several Cartels were in position firing down upon their attackers with M-4's and AK-47's through shattered windows. Viper paid them no mind as he crouch walked behind them and lowered to a near crawl as bullets embedded themselves in the wall behind him and didn't even acknowledge any colleagues who fell to the ground wounded or completely dead around him and continued towards the garage. Throwing himself through the next door, he was now in the stairwell that led down to the garage. Also present was another dying Cartel who had taken several shots to the abdomen in the previous hallway, staining the floor and walls around him with his bloody hand and footprints. He reached out to the hired gun for help, unable to speak. Viper paid him no mind and took his M-4 and proceeded down the stairs.

The garage was devoid of all human life. Two Cartel Cruisers were present along with what he had come for, the bulletproof Sentinel. He smiled as he stared at the blood red vehicle and felt a brief sense of power, deflated by the fact that he could still be rendered powerless if he were to be flipped over. Always a daredevil, he hopped in and revved the engine waiting patiently for the garage door to open.

Before the door could fully open though, a Biker had already taken the opportunity to storm the open garage blasting the car repeatedly with his pump-action shotgun. Viper only laughed cruelly at this man's stupidity and punched the pedal to the floor, turning the man into a bloody skidmark only a second later.

"You're next Jake!" he laughed to himself as he swerved out into the open and tried to run over some Cubans in his way, but they had seen him coming and dove out of the way. With an insane cackle he pulled out an MP5 that had been resting on the passenger's seat and began firing at the rival gang members, dropping many with the ferocity of the serpent his nickname suggested. With another jerk of the wheel, he found a Biker bouncing off of his windshield followed by another who would be crushed beneath the car's already bloody wheels.

Whipping the car around in a fishtail motion, he sped up only to nearly run over an individual dressed entirely in black who had only appeared in his headlights a split second before what would have been a nasty impact.

Wait a minute, a man dressed entirely in black! This clicked with Viper immediately and he spun the car around again to find himself facing the man in black. Looking briefly down at the concrete, he saw that he had run over a pair of night-vision goggles the man had dropped, but that was good for the hired gun because then that exposed his mysterious adversary's eyes...

...His cold, bluish-gray eyes.

"Well whatta ya' know! It was you all along!" Viper grinned as he stared at the figure before him. He could tell by the man's eyes alone that it was his former best friend Jake Cavanaugh, standing before him clad in a black sneaking suit that made him look like a Black Ops soldier and holding an M-4 in hand. The man's eyes seemingly glimmered as he unleashed a mighty battle cry and raised his weapon.

Wasting no time, Viper hit the gas ready to make his former partner a distant memory.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Viper!"

The man behind the wheel of the blood red Sentinel was none other than that traitorous bastard himself and he was ready to crush him as he roared the car's engine and peeled across the pavement towards him.

With an almost inhuman roar, Jake raised his assault rifle and began firing away at the oncoming car. Unfortunately, the bullets only pinged off of the vehicle's exterior showing that they had been smart enough to bulletproof this car. He didn't have time to curse as the car was just inches away from him and he quickly rolled off to the side. Viper seemingly saw him from a mile away as he quickly spun the car around and came charging at him again, this time with MP5 drawn and fired a barrage tearing away at the ground around his adversary.

"Not tonight!" Jake shouted as he ran for the nearest cover he could find, the ground being ripped apart by the bullets nipping at his heels. He ran and ran until he spotted a stack of metal crates and quickly dove for cover, nearly breaking his shoulder in the process. Quickly digging through his side pack, he managed to produce several grenades he had picked from the corpse of a Cartel henchman and tossed them at the speeding armored car.

Showing off the flawless driving skills he had demonstrated in previous bank jobs and drive-by hits, Viper swerved around the small explosions as if he were driving on an obstacle course. However, the younger criminal's last blast hit close enough and sent the armored Sentinel flipping repeatedly before it landed on its roof.

Jake grunted to himself as he watched the car flip and launched himself over the crates as he watched his former friend climbing out through the shattered driver's side window. "Get back here you son of a bitch!"

Gunfire rang out all around the young career criminal and he could feel the hot air of bullets flying around him, narrowly missing him by centimeters with each shot. None of that concerned him though as he wanted to get his hands around Viper's throat and strangle the life out of him. He ducked and rolled almost as if he could sense where the bullets were being fired from as he chased after his adversary, who by now had climbed over a chain-link fence and was making his way up a fire escape that led up the side of the warehouse to what he assumed was probably a makeshift helipad.

Jake Cavanaugh would not be denied in his quest for revenge and his adrenaline seemingly kicked into overdrive as he leapt onto the metal fence and then with a mighty heave, flipped his legs over the fence like he was scaling a wall in basic training and then almost buckled as he hit the ground below and ran up the metal steps.

As he expected, Jake found a makeshift helipad on the warehouse roof where Viper was about to board the Maverick helicopter that had survived the attack on the estate. With him were two M-4-wielding Cartel goons and another man, an older man with short, greying hair which was receding slightly and wearing a dark blue suit with a pink Hawaiian dress shirt underneath, almost exactly like Tommy's except for his was a dark brown color. He was obviously a Cartel higher-up with his own assault rifle and was joined by two more Cartel guards emerging from the helicopter.

"Nice of you to join us, Sr. Cavanaugh. Your former amigo Viper here has told us so much about you, along with your boss, his whiny ex-lawyer friend, his degenerate business associates, and that whore you've been fucking on and off ever since you've been here in Vice. It truly is a shame that we couldn't meet under more pleasant circumstances, then again this will be our only meeting I also regret to inform you," the man spoke cocking his rifle.

"And who the hell are you?" Jake shot back, removing his mask knowing that his identity was now known by the Cartel and also so they could see his intense, death-like stare.

"Armando Villareal, leader of the Vice City Cartel division. That shouldn't matter much to you as you're about to die anyway," he spoke raising his rifle to eye level.

Acting on instinct, Jake raised his own gun and fired a single round, knocking the assault rifle from the older man's hands.

"Kill him!" Armando screamed, retreating into the helicopter. The lesser Cartels obliged and opened fire while Viper wisely took cover behind an air conditioning unit. Relying upon superior agility, Jake leapt back and forth and used his marksmanship skills to drop two guards right away. The other two then took cover near Viper and fired at their adversary. 

For now the career criminal was operating with half a clip and saw the working helicopter, knowing they could try to escape at any given time. He raised his rifle and fired the remaining rounds at the 'copter hoping to strike anything vital and thus halt their escape. His shots connected and several different fluids poured all over the aircraft's surface followed by the rotors gradually slowing down.

"Damn you American pig!" Armando screamed now emerging from the cockpit firing his Colt .45 at his younger adversary while his two remaining henchmen now flanked him to protect their leader. Viper remained hidden behind the A.C. unit popping out every few seconds to fire a potshot, but to no avail as Jake was hidden safely and could dish out damage at the same time.

"Look who's talking!" Jake retorted firing a long burst that took out the remaining Cartel guards. It was now down to Armando and Viper, both men now without transportation thanks to the young criminal disabling their helicopter. They both looked at each other not knowing what to think, the older man showing visible signs of terror despite being armed and having an able fighter like Viper at his side.

"You'll pay for this insult Cavanaugh!" the Cartel leader threatened with practiced bravado as he fired what was left of his current clip foolishly at his hidden adversary before looking back to Viper. "Forget about him Viper, let's get out of here now! There should be a boat near the docks we can take!" Armando whined as he rushed to the rooftop's ledge and looked for a way to the ground.

Viper only stared at the man with a cool indifference, "You're right, you are going somewhere, but not where you think!" and in an unexpected motion raised his MP5 and fired a burst into his employer.

Armando Villareal collapsed to the ground with a look of pure shock and disbelief as he stared up at his hired gun. The bullets had struck him in several vital areas, including his lungs and he would die soon as a result of his injuries, but first he wanted answers. "Wh...why..." he croaked as the whole world began spinning around him.

"Because you are a bull-headed piece of shit who like so many of my other employers before you has done nothing but tried to hold me back. We could have flown the coop and regained our strength, but no! You were so dead adamant about getting your precious "merchandise" out of here intact when you've already got so many contacts up the ass you still couldn't bear to lose one small lab and move on. Yes, I could have worried about your merchandise too, but right now all I care about is myself, something you never did. I'm through with bosses like you and now I'm moving on to greener pastures!" Viper spat bitterly as he watched the Cartel leader expire before his very eyes.

A sharp pain suddenly made its presence felt in Viper's right arm, causing him to scream out in pain and send his MP5 clattering to the rooftop surface. Trying to force the pain into subsiding, he turned to find Jake standing before him with silenced pistol in hand, the same hateful gaze that had refused to leave his eyes ever since he was betrayed hours earlier, "You forgot about me, asshole!"

The older man gave a sarcastic grin towards his former friend, "Just what I would expect from you. You always held grudges Jake, always had a temper. You never could allow something to slip by you, even if the littlest kid dropped his ice cream on your shoes you'd still want to track him down and crucify him on a cross covered in barb wire. Or wait, I must be wrong, you always had your little "code of honor," you never could hurt a fly if it didn't attack you first. A true lack of killer instinct then, but now you actually appear to exhibit some shreds of manhood. I never thought I'd say this, but you seem to finally impress me for once."

"Cut the crap about your talk with manhood!" Jake growled struggling to not put a bullet in the man, "You're no man, Viper. You're a nothing but a lowly parasite, a fucking parasite! Dedicated to nothing but earning another's trust and then stabbing them in the back when they least expect it," he growled unable to contain his rage, "You were my friend, Viper...No, you were more...You were a brother to me, man. A fucking brother! You became my family when I was forced to flee my town. You were always there to watch my back and I trusted you with everything! Everything!" Jake lowered his head for a second, but then brought it back up staring directly into his former friend's taunting eyes, "You had to change that all. You had to get fucking greedy and kill our closest friends and leave me for dead. You're right, things are different now, only this time I will accomplish what you failed to succeed." The young career criminal's voice then lowered into a demonic growl, "Viper...I'm going to fucking kill you!"

Viper only let out a pained chuckle as he held his hand over where he had been shot. "You seriously think so, eh? Just remember who taught you half the stuff you know about crime, kid. Feel lucky that I have other plans, or else I would kill you right here on the spot." He then made his way towards the ledge and then turned to face his younger adversary one last time, "You won this round Jake, but it's not over yet! I will be back!" Extending his middle finger towards Jake, he then leapt to a fire escape and raced down several flights of stairs.

"Hold it right there! You're not getting away so easily this time you fucking rat!" Jake cried firing at his enemy, but only striking air as he made his jump. Determined to get his revenge, the young criminal ran and quickly made his way over to the ledge and leapt down to the fire escape continuing his pursuit.

Viper raced towards a nearby cliffside pumping his limbs as fast as he could go. If planned correctly, there should be a Vortex hovercraft waiting for him. There had to be. Unknown to Armando and the others, he had hijacked one and had it parked at the docks near the cliff's base. He just had to dive into the water beneath and then would swim over to the hovercraft and make his way to freedom.

This was not to be.

Coming to the cliff's edge, Viper was shocked to find the hovercraft was nowhere to be found. "What the hell? This cannot be! I..."

"You HAD a hovercraft waiting for you at that dock. I knew you were probably up to something to keep a hovercraft near this place, so I had one of the guys I came with take it for me. Him and my other associate are probably out for a joyride as I speak," Jake smirked putting away his silenced pistol and drawing his MP5.

"Bastard..." Viper hissed, drawing his combat shotgun. The two men stood apart with weapons drawn, staring silently towards each other with a malicious hatred burning from within their darkened souls. These two men truly hated each other right now. Jake hated Viper because he betrayed him and Viper hated Jake because he was nothing but dead weight holding him back from reaching the big time and becoming the best there ever was. The tension could suffocate anybody right now. One of these men would not be going home tonight.

"Running away like a scalded dog, that's not the Viper I knew, the good old Viper. At least the good old Viper had some balls to back himself up, but now he's dead and gone forever. All I see standing before me right now is nothing more than a mere shell of a once great man. Hell, you probably weren't even great back then, only God knows how many people you've betrayed and left for dead before me," Jake boomed with enough rage his hands began to shake. He wanted to kill his betrayor.

"Shut the fuck up you worthless piece of trash!" Viper screamed, "You were a nobody from day one and you still haven't amounted to anything! I could have showed you the way to becoming a true killing machine, but no! Too many human emotions to slow you down, you're weak! You're nothing! You should have been dead back in that back alley with those other pieces of garbage! Maybe it's a good thing your bitches hijacked my hovercraft, because now I'll get the chance to end you once and for all!"

Jake tossed his MP5 to the ground followed closely by his other firearms, "Really? Well we'll just see about that, bub! How about you and me, one on one? No weapons, no backup, nothing! Hand-to-hand combat. I'll tear you apart with my bare hands!"

With an eager grunt, Viper tossed his shotgun to the ground, followed by his other firearms, "If you insist, then so be it. This time I won't leave you breathing, I will make sure that you are totally dead and then I'll feed you to the sharks!"

"You're on!" 

Jake raised his fists and got into a traditional fighting stance. Viper did the same and both men began to pace, circling around watching each other like hawks. Neither man said a word as they stared directly into each other's eyes and slowly got closer and closer.

Viper was the first to make a move, performing a slow, but powerful-looking left hook that Jake easily bent backwards to dodge. The stocky man wasn't finished as he delivered a right cross followed by some left-handed jabs that Jake had brought his arms up to block. The younger man then jumped backwards as Viper brought his foot up attempting to kick his former friend in the groin.

With a low growl, Viper launched himself at Jake and delivering a boxing combo consisting of straights, hooks, jabs, backfists, haymakers, and elbow attacks that were either dodged or blocked by Jake. Rearing his arm back, Viper launched himself trying to perform another dashing straight, but Jake saw him coming and rolled under his attack, coming up with a side kick to his opponent's lower back.

Jake had landed the first clean hit in the scuffle, but that did little to slow his opponent down as the bigger man quickly straightened himself out and rushed at the younger man with his arms oustretched.

Both men locked themselves into a Muay Thai-style clench and from there the contest would turn into a test of strength with neither man showing any signs of giving up. Viper brought his head back attempting a headbutt, but Jake was the quicker of the two and moved his head to the left. He then brought his knee up and delivered several knee shots to the stocky man's stomach, but his Kevlar vest cushioned the blows and Viper brought his foot down upon his opponent's right foot and this time connected with another headbutt that forced Jake to break the hold.

Viper drew back his fist again and delivered a sickening haymaker to Jake's face that nearly knocked him from his feet. With his opponent's guard let down, Viper performed a punching combo to the man's face that ended with an uppercut, snapping Jake's head backwards and forcing him down to the concrete. He ran over to kick his downed foe, but the career criminal brought his foot out and swept the man from his feet.

Jake rolled back to his feet and for the first time felt the warm sticky blood gushing from his split open lower lip. He grimaced further as he tried to move his facial muscles having already taken several shots to the face and grunted as he watched his opponent rise back to his feet.

Viper stood back up and dusted off his trademark jacket tempting Jake to strike him again. Jake bounced up and down on his feet throwing some practice jabs to keep his opponent at bay and then swung forward with an inverted roundhouse kick that forced the older man to jump back. He rushed forward and leapt into the air performing a flying kick that caused his enemy to stagger back a few steps and then tried to duck low for another sweep kick, but Viper leapt backwards.

Drawing his head back, Viper launched himself into the air with a sick shoulder tackle that knocked his opponent to the ground. Wasting no time, he mounted his downed opponent and went to punch the man repeatedly in the face. His first two shots had connected, but Jake had finally managed to bring his arms up to protect his face and then with some lightning quick reflexes, managed to catch both of Viper's hands and with a mighty heave flipped the big man off of him.

Using his own shoulder tackle, Jake managed to catch the man in the back before he could get back to his feet and brought him down to the ground as well. Without a word, he then mounted Viper and began driving his fists into the man's face repeatedly, finally drawing blood as he broke the man's nose, but that did little to slow down Viper as he clamped his hand around the taller man's throat and began digging his nails into the man's windpipe.

Jake's offense was suddenly halted as the wind began draining from his lungs and he was once again forced onto his back, where Viper then grabbed him by the head and proceeded to bash the back of his skull into the ground repeatedly. The stocky man eventually grew tired of bashing Jake's head into the concrete and then stood up and began kicking him in the ribs repeatedly.

"Fuck!" Jake grunted as repeated stomps were directly at his ribs.

"Yes Jake, scream for me like the bitch you are!" Viper taunted as he brought his foot down and a crack was heard. He had for sure just busted one and maybe even two of Jake's ribs and then brought a wrestling style elbow drop onto the man's chest, knocking the wind even further from his body.

"How does it feel, Jake?" he asked driving his foot into the young man's groin, causing him to groan loudly as he clutched his sore private area. "Huh? I can't hear you?" he shouted kicking his former friend with enough force to finally force him over onto his side. "Tell me, how does it feel you worthless piece of shit?"

Viper went to kick Jake's skull in this time, only to be greeted with an uppercut to the crotch, "It feels good you lying creep!"

Jake rose back to his feet and delivered a vicious side kick to his betrayer's hip causing him to nearly buckle over. He then rushed over and delivered a low Muay Thai kick to the man's already weakened leg, followed by a roundhouse kick, a spinning heel kick, and a scissors kick to the man's face that sent him flying backwards. He didn't even bother to allow his adversary to rise back to his feet as he flew through the air with another flying kick that found its mark in the middle of the man's chest and then proceeded to kick the man repeatedly while he was down.

"You fucking betrayed me, Viper!" Jake shouted driving his foot into the man's stomach. "I considered you a brother and this is how you repay me?" he growled stomping the man's chest in, "I'm going to send you to Hell even if I have to break every bone in your body with my bare hands!" he shouted with a powerful soccer kick that knocked Viper back a few feet once more. "I hope you enjoy this you bastard because this is the last sensation you will ever feel."

"And I hope you enjoy this!" Viper croaked.

Jake felt a hot, intense pain in his right thigh and looked down to see that Viper had pulled out a large combat knife and had dug it into his flesh, "Never trust a venomous serpent you fool!" Viper pulled out the blade and slashed his opponent across his calf and sent him staggering backwards. With Jake far enough away, Viper took the blade and chucked it at his adversary, catching him in the shoulder.

The young career criminal tried hard not to scream in pain at the knife lodged in his shoulder and shot his eyes open with a renewed vigor as he painstakingly removed the knife from his flesh.

With a heavy grunt, Viper braced himself and staggered back to his feet and produced another blade he had kept concealed in a shin holster, "How 'bout we make this a good old fashioned knife fight?" he smiled sadistically as he stared at his injured enemy.

"Why the hell not?" Jake retorted pointing the blade outward and hunching his shoulders as he prepared to deliver another attack. Viper made a mad dash and took a swipe directed at his former friend's side which he managed to dodge and then delivered another directed at the man's throat, which Jake could barely avoid as his reaction time had been slowed by his injuries. With a 360 degree spin, Viper came around again and managed to slash Jake's right cheek and brought his leg up striking the man in his left knee.

Jake let out a dull grunt as he buckled down to one knee and brought his left arm up only to receive another blow compliments of Viper's blade, tearing the fabric of his suit and sending a stream of blood flowing down his arm. Viper then caught his bloody arm and attempted to hack off some of his fingers to add insult to injury, but Jake had managed to wrestle his way out, although not without having his middle and ring fingers on that hand snapped like twigs.

Seeing an opening, Jake brought his knife up and delivered a wild slash to Viper's leg, leaving behind a nasty gash that had torn the fabric of his cargo pants from thigh to the end and turning the once khaki green fabric a dark crimson. Viper fell backwards trying to avoid more strikes, but proved to be too slow as Jake brought the blade up again and this time attempted to drive it into his gut. Even though his Kevlar vest had absorbed the blow, the traitor still buckled over and it was there that Jake would execute a slash that traveled diagonally across the standing man's face.

"Fuck that, I don't need this to kick your ass!" Jake shouted tossing the blade aside and eventually rising back to his feet. He charged again at Viper, who was still too distracted by the blow inflicted upon his face, and delivered a snap kick to his gut, followed by another scissors kick, a roundhouse, sobat, and finally a backward roundabout kick. "I'll show you pain you backstabber!" the career criminal shouted as he unleashed a flurry of power punches, following by a backfist and then ending with an uppercut that had the powerful man wobbling. Still unable to knock the man from his feet, he grabbed his former friend and flipped backwards, delivering a German Suplex into the hard concrete.

It was time to finish this once and for all. Jake was closest to Viper's pile of weapons and staggered over to find a powerful Desert Eagle among the firearms. He marvelled at the mighty handgun as he picked it up and cocked it, this had to be the gun he would finish this business with.

He turned around to find Viper struggling back to his feet and standing near the ledge of the cliff fully aware of his surroundings and then moving a few steps forward. The traitor saw that Jake now held his Desert Eagle and only smiled.

"You don't have it in you, softy! Don't think I don't know about your own pathetic little "code of honor." You're too chickenshit to blast a defenseless individual...Heh heh!"

Jake furrowed his brow at the traitorous slimebag, "You are no innocent bystander, liar! You're nothing-"

Before Jake could finish his sentence, he was cut off by a bullet to the chest, followed by two sharp pains in his already bloody left arm. With a strangled cry he fell onto his back on the cold, hard surface. The first round had been halted by his bulletproof vest, but the last two bullets had torn straight through his arm, luckily neither damaging nor lodging in any bones. That bastard Viper had concealed a silenced pistol in his pants and was going to fire another shot until his gun jammed on him.

Seizing the moment, Jake ignored the dull, throbbing ache and fired a round knocking the man's gun from his hands and sent it flying into the water below. He wasn't done yet. He fired another round into the same leg he had slashed Viper, obliterating his knee cap and dropping him to the ground howling in pain. Ejecting the spent casing he fired another round, catching the traitor in his right arm with enough force the appendage was only being held to the rest of his body by ragged strips of flesh.

"See you in Hell!" Jake shouted and fired another round, punching through Viper's bulletproof vest and sending him staggering backwards over the cliff's edge.

"JJJJJJJJJJJJJAAAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKEEEEEEEEEEE!"

The man cried out the entire way down until he hit the cold, icy waters with a resounding splash and then nothing was heard from him again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The air was still in the night after the bloody battle had concluded at the SPANK lab. The bodies of Bikers, Cubans, Haitians, and Cartel members alike littered the ground, mingling perfectly with the bombed out buildings, shot up and burning remnants of gang vehicles, and the thousands of spent rounds littering the crimson concrete inches away from the men who had both fired them and been killed by them. Despite the loud ruckus created by the battle, nobody had yet had the chance to call the police. It was dead silent in the section of Little Haiti where the battle had taken place. No automobiles or bystanders dared to tread near the battleground, knowing they would see images that would forever haunt them. Therefore, it truly was a unique sight to see a white Admiral pulling up to the demolished gates of the factory.

"Oh god, do you think he's all right? Please let him be all right!" Ken Rosenberg whimpered as he emerged from the car and was instantly met by the sight of dead bodies lying everywhere, "Dear lord, please let the kid be all right! We've already lost too many good men today and I can't bear the thought of another lost soul on my conscience, as if I haven't gone through enough shit already today!"

"Rosie, will ya' shut yer bloody freakin' trap for five seconds will ya'?" Kent Paul exclaimed as he stepped out of the car and surveyed the aftermath of the climactic battle. The bloodshed stopped him dead in his tracks, "Please be aw right, Jake. If ya' can be tough 'nough ta' survive the battle at Tommy's, then ya' gotta be tough 'nough to survive this madhouse."

"Look!" Ken cried out with a shaky finger.

The two men looked into the demolished courtyard to see a figure emerging from the smoke limping towards them. The gentleman wore the tattered remnants of a black sneaking suit and was covered from head to toe in filth and dried blood. His short black hair was matted down to his head and his short goatee was unkempt and filled with chunks of miscellaneous debris. Throughout everything he wore the same expression of anguish and hatred shown through his slanted bushy black eyebrows and cold-blue gray eyes.

"Jake!" the ex-lawyer called out with glee, "Thank God you're all right! You had me so freaking worried, I tell you..."

Jake raised his good hand and motioned for the man to be quiet. "Ken, just get inside and shut the fuck up. I'm in no mood for talking right now," he spat bitterly and bluntly and then turned his attention to Paul, "You too, just get inside and shut the fuck up and drive!"

With the hostility still heavy in his voice, Jake limped over to the car and threw himself into the backseat. Right now he wanted nothing to do with anybody and just wanted to get as far away from this place as he possibly could.

The bloody battle at the SPANK lab would not be the only tragedy to occur that fateful night.

Utilizing their connections to corrupt city officials, while Jake and his allies were away fighting the Colombian Cartel in Little Haiti, the criminal organization had contacted the F.B.I. and immediately squads of heavily armed S.W.A.T. and F.B.I. agents descended upon the Vercetti Estate. Thanks to the battle from hours before, Tommy and his henchmen were already severely weakened and when the night ended, a majority of his henchmen had either been killed, arrested, or reported missing. His business associates thankfully had left the estate immediately after the Cartel raid and none of them were caught in the crossfire.

Tommy Vercetti himself fought valiantly to defend his criminal empire, but in the end the superior numbers of the federal agents had proven to be too much for him and he was cut down in a hail of gunfire, bitterly defiant to the end.

As a result, Jake was left without work and protection and was now the most wanted man in Vice. He received treatment at Dr. Sneed's office and was forced to flee the city immediately afterwards, going through several hideouts along the American southwest before coming to his recent hideout in Unity City.

So brings him to the present...

A/N: Well after a month of slow progress I have brought you my latest installment of Darkness Arises! I apologize for the long wait, but I guess I felt some pressure to top the last chapter since I put a lot of effort into it and you my loyal viewers really seemed to eat it up. I've been busy lately with school because I am in my final semester of my graphic design program totally wasting my time and money on a major which I am at the moment completely burnt out on and doubting I will ever pursue a career in (Catalina87, Noctorro, and Terry have all experienced my bitching first-hand on this issue), but am being prodded by my parents to stay because "I am so far along." It's been rough shit indeed and will probably eventually send me to the poor house.

Other than that, I've also been sidetracked by ideas for my other fanfics. I am slowly coming along on the second chapter for my Grand Theft Auto fanfic "Gangs of San Andreas" and am lagging along on the second chapter. I am also in the process of revising my Street Fighter story "Street Fighter 4: The New Challenge" and am thinking up an all new cast of characters for my fic. I have also decided to discontinue my "E-Z B: The Warrior's Path" fanfic and am going to restart it with an all new character since I realize most self-insertion fics go nowhere anyways. 

In addition to all of my current fanfics, I am also thinking up a new Resident Evil fanfic set in the future called "Resident Evil: Pandemic" which is a "what if?" fanfic where the S.T.A.R.S. members failed to completely contain Umbrella's monstrosities and thus there are biohazardous outbreaks all over the world and the main character is the grandson of Chris and Jill, who belongs to a government-based biohazardous countermeasure squad sent on a mission to rescue a research team who have a possible cure to the constantly mutating Proteus (P) Virus.

I'm sorry to keep all of you waiting, but I didn't forget any of you and despite the fact that some of you were coming at me like angry townspeople with torches, I still give you thanks for your generous backing. Take care and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/ 


	19. Chapter 15: A Grim Day Ahead

Darkness Arises by E-Z B

Chapter 15: A Grim Day Ahead

The crashing of wood against wood startled many of the civilians from their sleep and sent tense officers scrambling for their weapons.

Jake had been lying sound asleep on his military cot when the library's main double doors came flying open and nearly knocked books off the nearby shelves. A second later, the young criminal was jolted awake and had thrown his pillow aside, holding the Magnum he had previously kept hidden underneath. From the corner of his eye, he could see David, Eric, Donald, and the lanky rookie named D.J. standing tall with weapons drawn while Samantha, Denise, and Donald's wife all hid behind them waiting for a new attack.

Much to the relief of everybody, it was only a young officer in a police uniform with short brown hair who held an H&K VP-70 in his right hand. He had been running for quite some time as he was visibly out of breath and bent over, but suddenly stopped when he looked up to see that everybody in the room had been staring at him. Embarrassed at how much attention he had just drawn, he quietly mumbled an apology and began walking towards the center of the room where most of the cots had been placed. Judging by the frantic strides he made, many of the officers could tell something bad was occurring outside, but he didn't want to say anything aloud for fear of startling the already unruly civilians present. Nodding silently amongst themselves, the officers made their way to the officer and gathered around him. Eager to hear of the developments, Jake joined in.

"Fred, what's going on?" Neil Carlsen spoke in hushed tones looking around to make sure no other civilians were close enough to hear him.

The officer, Fred Dixon, finished catching his breath and then cleared his throat before he spoke, "Things aren't going good outside. There's more of those bastards coming and I'd swear to God there must be over fifty or maybe even nearly a hundred out there," he blurted out, nearly cracking from the burden of being the bearer of bad news.

Many of the men present, battle-hardened officers with years of experience underneath their belts, paled at the sound of his words and began muttering quietly to each other.

"Oh this is just great," S.W.A.T. officer Malcolm Dauss boomed in his ghetto-accented voice, "First we're stuck babysitting a bunch of rowdy civvies and now those rotting bozos decide to show up for round two. They have the best timing in the world. Just fuckin' great I tell y'all," he groaned in anguish, already famished from a lack of sleep and adequate meals. Many of the officers shared his pain and were reluctant to go outside, but were pressed forward knowing they didn't have much of another choice.

"I know you're all tired as fuck, but Sgt. Foreman needs people out there to reinforce the barricade right now. There's too many of those things out there for the boys to handle and they're going to need the extra firepower or else those bastards are going to overrun us," Fred explained as he closely studied the tired looks in his co-workers' eyes. The young officer perfectly understood their anguish as he had been forced to work overtime in the recent weeks with all of the mysterious attacks occurring around Raccoon City and had barely had any sleep over the past few days period, aside from a few closely monitored catnaps.

The officers looked warily towards each other and silently pondered their own individual fates, using their eyes and facial expressions to communicate their thoughts to one another. In addition to Donald, Eric, D.J., and Fred, there were twelve other uniformed officers present at the gathering with six additonal who stood scattered around the large room, mostly armed with regular handguns and shotguns, aside from one who carried Desert Eagle. Besides David, there were six other S.W.A.T. officers present for the gathering and eight others spread out amongst the townspeople, all of them armed with combat shotguns, assault rifles, submachine guns, and a few sniper rifles in the mix as well.

Aside from Jake, a few other civilians had joined in on the conversation as well. Standing right behind him peering over his shoulder was a man dressed up like a deer hunter wearing a camouflage hat, red and black checkered vest, gray sweatshirt underneath, green cargo pants, and black boots. Resting against his shoulder was an IDK Type 2 sniper rifle, some pretty heavy weaponry for a civilian, unless he was ex-military.

Not too far away from them were two more men who stood conversing amongst themselves. The first was an older man with short gray hair covered by a small cap and wore bib overalls covered by a faded jacket. In his right hand he held a sawn-off 12-gauge shotgun and fumbled with some shells in his left hand. The other man was younger with short black hair falling mid-length to his neck and wearing a dark green windbreaker and torn jeans. He carried a Browning HP handgun and had a visible knife strapped to his side.

As the gathered officers conversed quietly amongst themselves, another S.W.A.T. officer whose nametag read "Fortay" stepped in and looked carefully at the civilians, who now solely focused upon the gathering in the center of the room, before he spoke up, "I say we should move out now. Leave the other guys to guard the survivors. The longer we sit around here chit-chatting, the more of a chance those rotting bastards are going to have to descend upon this place like a flock of locusts." He then paused for a bit before making the order, "Okay, let's move out!" he called out, no longer able to hide the fact that they were about to go outside to fight off the approaching horde of undead.

"Oh God, Donald what's going on?" Donald's wife Sheila called out as she ran over to her husband and protectively latched onto his arm.

The veteran officer looked down into his wife's amber colored orbs and saw all the fear and sadness within, the anguish of a mother who had already lost all of her children and wanted to lose no one else close to her, not the same beautiful, carefree eyes he had first come into contact with over twenty years ago.

Donald's bloodshot eyes held a similar pain. He wanted so desperately to lie to her and tell her that it was just a false alarm and that it was just a rescue party that had shown up to save them from this infernal hellhole, but alas he could not bring himself to lie to his beloved wife. He could never bring himself to lie to her. The intense staredown between husband and wife had many onlookers on edge and the tension seemed to break when she fell into his chest sobbing, "Please, tell me what's going on!"

Taking a couple deep breaths it took him great effort to choke out, "Them..."

"Oh God no!" she nearly screamed as she wrapped her arms tight around his body, "Please, don't go! Those things will kill you...stay with me...please!"

Donald sighed heavily and looked towards his fellow officers who were about to go outside. The man could feel his own tears forming in his eyes. He had no idea what to do now, he was torn between the love of his wife and his duty as an officer to serve and protect. It was too much for him and he had to make a decision fast as many other innocent lives rested on his shoulders.

"Please sweetie, stay with me. We've already lost the kids and I don't need to lose you. You're all I've got left..."

Before he could speak though, he felt a gloved hand upon his shoulder.

He looked over to find David McGraw standing next to him giving him an assurring nod. The young S.W.A.T. officer's face was covered by his balaclava and riot helmet, but he knew the man was smiling to him underneath and understood his predicament, "Stay with her, man. She's going to need you after what happened last night. We'll take these bastards by ourselves."

The tension suddenly left Donald's body and he collapsed onto the nearest cot with his wife at his side. For the first time in hours a smile had crossed his ravaged features, "Thank you...thank you so much!"

David gave a quick salute and then turned his attention towards Jake, who had been present during the small meeting and looked towards him as if awaiting orders. "Here!" the S.W.A.T. officer grabbed an H&K MP5 submachine gun that rested on a nearby weapons crate and nearly shoved it into the civilian's chest, "Take it! If you can handle an M4A1, then you should definitely be able to handle this bad boy. I saw how you handled yourself against those skinless tongue creatures and those gigantic bugs. We're going to need all the help we can get against those rotting motherfuckers outside and you're definitely someone to help out," he explained to the younger man with a confident nod.

Jake happily accepted the submachine gun, now having a better replacement for his empty assault rifle and shotgun broken by the creature from the restaurant. In addition, he was also given four spare clips for the gun. The career criminal considered himself a hero by no means, let alone a protector of the innocent, but right now he didn't have much of a choice. It was kill or be killed, as it had been in many previous situations in his turbulent life. For now he actually needed these people around as they boosted his chances for survival in completing his mission and until then he would have to assume the role as a somewhat protector until things died down and he could make his escape.

Jogging after the young S.W.A.T. officer, he disappeared through the set of double doors leading him to the second floor mezzanine and then climbed down a conveniently placed fire ladder that had been lowered to the first floor, which itself was lined with heavily armed S.W.A.T. and police officers who were to act as a last line of defense should the frontal barricade fall. As he ran, he took the time to acknowledge the cracks of sunlight filtering in through the grand windows, mostly obscured by dark gray clouds. Even without the walking dead present, it still looked like there would be a grim day ahead.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

There must have been between fifty and seventy of them. Another wave of undead stumbled drunkenly towards the barricaded police department in search of new victims. As with the many waves of zombies encountered throughout the past few days, they all came in different shapes, sizes, and age brackets and were clad in all manner of clothing. Their similarities outweighed their differences though. Every one of them had pale flesh hanging loosely from their faces and arms which revealed the slimy muscle underneath. All of them had white, dead eyes that showed no emotion and could instill terror in even the bravest officer. They all shambled mindlessly unaware of everything around them, including the deadly firearms being pointed in their direction. Most importantly, they all shared the same mindless bloodlust and only cared about satisfying an insatiable hunger that was their sole driving force.

Sgt. Wade Foreman stood atop a small scaffold positioned against the outer cement wall peering through the scope of an IDK Type 2 sniper rifle staring at the creatures approaching. After a few seconds he took his eye away and felt the knot of dread tighten within his stomach. Looking to his left he saw plenty of battered fellow officers who stood at their posts, worn out by the lack of food and sleep, anxious to open fire upon the approaching zombies. Returning his attention to the approaching zombies, he pulled out his radio and spoke to several snipers who had been positioned on the roof of the R.P.D. and a few surrounding buildings, "All snipers in position, fire at will!"

The loud bursts of sniper rifles filled the air and several zombies were knocked backward by the rounds colliding with their bodies, a few falling right away from lethal headshots. Seeing the urgency created by more zombies being added to the mix he grabbed a megaphone and spoke to the other officers, "Everybody fire at will!"

Jake stood on scaffolding against the right-hand side of the station's main gate positioned between David and another S.W.A.T. officer named Ben Dallas. Sgt. Foreman's words rang out and without hesitation he fired a round through the skull of an approaching zombie in surgeon's scrubs, sending it flying backwards into two others. He had no time to rest on his laurels and slowly moved his submachine gun back and forth, taking down several more zombies before they could reach the lower barricades where more officers and civilians were firing madly to prevent the zombies from reaching them, who by now were less than ten feet away from the makeshift fencing that made up most of the lesser fortifications and were about to become tangled in the piled strands of razor wire stretching across the street.

The S.W.A.T. officer named Cutsforth loaded several explosive rounds into his M-79 grenade launcher and began firing randomly into the crowd, creating several small explosions that sent corpses flying all over in burning heaps. More zombies though had managed to avoid the radius of his explosive rounds and pressed forth until they were almost upon the makeshift fence and were already tripping over the steel security gates and other junk that made up the barricade. This brought forth several officers armed with shotguns who took positions around Cutsforth and began firing down into the fallen masses, splattering brain matter all over the fortifications. A surviving citizen in an industrial jumper charged towards the barricade and tossed two molotov cocktails into the crowd, igniting several zombies who continued to stumble forth until they finally succumbed to the flames.

Zombies continued pressing forth despite the blasts from the officer's shotguns and thus several S.W.A.T. officers armed with assault rifles and submachine guns were brought forth and were cutting down the zombies at a faster pace until their clips ran dry. It was then that the untouched zombies had finally reached the small fence and began throwing themselves against the weakened wood.

Malcolm Dauss and Emery Fortay were at the fence to reinforce the shotgun-toting uniformed officers, sending hails of hot lead ripping through the ranks of rotting residents that continued to throw themselves against the barricade using what possible instincts they could in their primitive minds. Soon fountains of blood shot into the air near the officers and a few were forced to recoil in horror as the slimy blood of the dead splashed onto them and trickled down their bodies. Both S.W.A.T. officers were so caught up in firing upon the advancing hordes that they almost didn't hear the cawing above them.

"What tha' fuck?" Malcolm boomed over the drone of a nearby shotgun. The S.W.A.T. officer looked up to see a crow come diving at him with beak extended, followed by a few more, "Shit! We've got hostiles from above on us now!" he shouted to Fortay as he diverted his gunfire to the sky where the murderous crows began to encircle them. A nearby uniformed officer saw the two S.W.A.T. agents firing and joined them, managing to drop one with a well-aimed shell to the sky.

Emery continued to fire at the crows until his clip ran dry and as he reached for a new one, they made their move. With suicidal dives, the crows flew headfirst towards him and one by one began to peck into him as he struggled. "Help me dammit!" he cried as he thrashed his arms wildly through the air trying to bat down his attackers and soon caught one long enough to snap its neck, but now while being pecked in his shoulder by one hungry crow and having his face scratched by another.

Malcolm and the uniformed officer joined in trying to save their comrade, swinging their weapons towards the crows like baseball bats and only knocking feathers onto their teammate, but they had managed to scare his attackers away long enough and began firing into the sky again, hitting several with random wild shots, raining bloody chunks and feathers down upon themselves and their wounded colleague.

Unfortunately, the distraction created by the crows opened up a new door for the zombies pressed against the barricade and with a mighty heave, they managed to crack one of the wooden boards supporting the scaffold the three officers stood on, knocking all of them off center.

"Son of a..." Malcolm cried as he struggled to regain his balance and at the same time fired his rifle into the air, the recoil spinning him around and knocking him over the fence and into the crowd of undead below, instantly sucked up like a hapless soul falling into quicksand.

"Malcolm!" Emery and the officer cried in unison, but as they reached out to help the falling man the scaffold beneath them broke under their combined weight being shifted to one side.and they too would tumble over the splintering fence.

The nameless uniformed officer immediately fell into the crowd of zombies below, disappearing into the mass of undead as soon as he made contact with them. The sick sounds of a man's flesh being torn from his body and his bones being broken followed soon after and his blood-drenched police cap was seemingly regurgitated from the mass that had been feasting upon him and landed at the feet of his stunned comrades as a symbol of mockery.

Emery however was still alive and was hanging on for dear life above the waiting crowd of zombies with the fence threatening to break under the force of his weight. The zombies below immediately switched their focus from the fence that impeded their progress to the fresh human that dangled above them, stretching their rotting arms upward as bullets slapped into their flesh and shotgun rounds tore massive sections out of their sides.

The wood beneath Emery Fortay's body cracked again and he could feel himself slip further down towards the waiting zombies, who stared at him with their soulless white eyes and moaned in displeasure as he struggled to climb upwards. In all his years on the force he never envisioned himself going down like this. He always believed that if he had to die in the line of duty he would go down fighting to protect innocent civilians from armed terrorists or saving them a gun-toting disgruntled co-worker. He was indeed protecting innocent civilians with his deeds, but the people he was protecting them from had up until a few days ago been the decent, hard-working citizens of Raccoon City he had sworn to protect themselves. Now, they were mindless killing machines and if something wasn't done he was about to become their latest victim.

More creaking was heard and the upper portion of the guard fence had now cracked in half and he slid flat on his stomach before he fell further downward and felt the fingertips of the undead brush against the thick leather soles of his Nomex boots. Finally, one of the zombies managed to grab a hold of his foot and pulled him further down. He tried desperately to kick the man off with his free foot, but the thing had already pulled him closer and sunk its teeth into his left calf and ripped a large chunk of flesh away.

The S.W.A.T. officer cried out in a mixture of pain and disbelief as he could feel the sticky blood gush from his leg wound and into the mouths of waiting zombies beneath, who became even more frenzied once the taste of human blood had met their lips. He was already weakened from the bites receieved from the crows and could feel himself slipping with every passing second. The terror of falling into the crowd below wasn't his only concern. Over the past two days, several of his colleagues had been bitten by these ravenous townspeople and generally appeared to be fine at first, but as the hours passed they would gradually weaken and become sick themselves before they finally began acting like the cannibals. Several of his co-workers had already been put out of their misery because they too had begun to display signs of the mysterious cannibal disease sweeping the community. The possibility of this greatly terrified him and he didn't wish to become a mindless walking cannibal either, but knowing his fellow officers they would probably try to keep him alive for as long as possible before he would finally have to be put down.

Despair had welled up so greatly in the officer's mind that he didn't even feel the warmth of human hands gripping his wrists.

"Somebody help me here!" a familiar voice called out. He looked up to see Lyndon Murray reaching over the broken section of fence and holding onto him tight. Emery looked up quietly towards his co-worker and managed a weak smile as he could feel himself being pulled up. The brief joy was snuffed out as fast as it had started when he felt a gut-wrenching pain as undead fingernails tore into his already injured leg and ripped a long chunk out as he was pulled over the fence.

Lyndon and Emery fell backwards hitting the ground with a heavy thud as the step ladder gave out underneath both of them as they fell backwards. Lyndon Murray was not seriously injured aside from a few bumps and bruises, but Emery Fortay had landed awkwardly suffered possible fractures in his already bitten leg and possible bruising to his ribs, which were kept intact by the padding of his flak jacket. Immediately there were two officers on hand to help Lyndon back to his feet. "Beck, Green, forget about me. Just get Fortay to safety, he's hurt pretty bad!" The S.W.A.T. member ordered as he braced himself against the cement wall. The two uniformed officers did as ordered and quickly led the injured officer over to the iron gates under each arm.

"Hurry up!" Beck shouted frantically to the officer with the gate key as he looked back to see more cracks in the wood forming around the piece broken by Fortay's weight. Several officers continued to fire everything they had into the crowd of undead and by now a few of them had run dry and were gathering around the three officers begging to be let through.

The officer in charge of the gate key was Rodney Schwartz and he struggled to fit the large key into the keyhole as he was panicked by the presence of the zombies trying to break through. He knew very well that if he didn't act fast those zombies could possibly break down the protective barrier and flood the station

"Come on Schwartz, hurry your monkey ass up!" Officer Jesse Montabello cried as he held rear flank with his shotgun pointed towards the splintering wall. The man held only four shells in his Mossberg shotgun and had nothing in reserve for his sidearm H&K VP-70.

"I'm trying!" Schwartz chirped back as he struggled with the large key before he finally steadied his nerves long enough to slide the key into the hole and turned it with a resounding welcome click, "Okay come on!"

The desperate officers nearly knocked the gate off its hinges as they plowed through half-carrying, half-dragging the injured Emery Fortay to the safety of the station's interior, "Get him to the evidence room quick! We're holding the wounded there until we can get them to Dr. Peltz!" Sgt. Foreman shouted from his perch, still focused on taking down the zombies below as he called out.

Jake, David, and Ben still fired away furiously at the approaching zombies below, who were now just seconds away from breaking down the makeshift fencing that had already been weakened by Fortay falling on it. Cutsforth remained on his perch in the small section between the station's outer wall and the makeshift wooden fence firing upon the undead with his grenade launcher, but was getting dangerously low on explosive rounds. The same civilian in the industrial jumper returned with more molotov cocktails in a milk crate and began handing them to officers standing around and lit each cloth inside with his own lighter before they could toss them over the barricade. 

Another civilian appeared and chucked some chemical bottles containing an explosive substance into the crowd on the other side of the barricade. From the back he looked like another medical doctor wearing a stained white labcoat, but when he turned around he suddenly caught the career criminal's attention. The man was in his late twenties with short shaggy brown hair and thick glasses. Hanging from his labcoat was the ID card of an Umbrella, Inc. employee.

"Umbrella...Birkin!" Jake muttered to himself as he stared down upon the man. The man was an employee for Umbrella and looked like a scientist, chances were slim because he looked like a young kid, but anything or anybody he came across Umbrella-related there was always the possibility that he probably knew or at least knew of William Birkin somehow.

David meanwhile stood next to him firing everything he had at the advancing hordes completely undistracted and motivated to protect the innocent and his co-workers from these undead monstrosities. He was so driven by an internal psycho power that he didn't even feel the raindrops striking his uniform. Overhead there was a crash of thunder and within seconds the light sprinkle had turned into a steady drizzle picking up force within seconds and already hampered his vision.

"Perfect. Just perfect," Ben grunted next to David as he ejected an empty clip and slid in a new one, "First we've got all these zombies attacking us when we're all hungry and half-asleep. Next, we lose two guys and another gets bitten up pretty bad by those freaks. Now we get rain in the middle of a firefight, certainly topping off this wonderful day shift if you ask me. Some guys have all the luck, eh?"

"No," David replied sliding in his own fresh clip, "It's the start of a fucking grim day ahead." The last time he had checked his watch it was high noon, but all the settings around him still made it feel like a gray morning and he certainly didn't want to stick around for nightfall either.

A sudden glimmer of hope began to manifest as the number of zombies could be seen declining, indicating that the R.P.D. survivors were actually making good in their efforts to protect their station and the officers continued firing every round they had until every last one of those undead abominations was dead forever.

Jake gritted his teeth as he felt the rain pelting against his back and pound against his head like falling nails. He was at least thankful that he wore his trenchcoat, but his long bangs were now falling into his eyes and slightly obscured his vision as he fired into the approaching zombies. David and Ben had raised their helmet's visors so their vision would not be obscured by the cascading droplets and both of them picked off nine zombies altogether with lethal headshots. Another officer had joined them on the scaffold firing upon the zombies with a Browning HP handgun, this one was a woman with dark red shoulder-length hair. It had been the same woman who had treated his wounds the night before, Officer Ellen Sears.

"Dieter, do you see any more coming?" Sgt. Foreman asked as he knelt down and loaded some more rounds into his rifle.

Ian Dieter, who had acted as the primary watchman over the past few nights, scanned the street with his binoculars. "I think this is the last of these freaks!" he shouted as he observed only six zombies remaining and nothing more after them. The sentry had been so focused on the remaining zombies in front of him that he didn't even notice the skinless monstrosity scaling the station's exterior behind him.

The officer was about to report to his superior as the last few zombies were taken down by a combined effort of the remaining officers near the makeshift fencing, "Okay, that should be the last of them Sarge!" he shouted in an almost jubilant tone, but was cut abruptly short as a wet, muscled tongue wrapped around his throat from above and lifted him a few feet off the ground. Other officers watched silently in horror as the man's pair of binoculars fell to the ground.

"Dieter!" several officers cried in unison and raised their weapons, but did not fire out of fear of striking their co-worker. The officer tried to grab at the noose-like tongue, but his air supply was already cut off and his face turned a vile shade of blue before the tongue coiled further and twisted his head with a sickly crack before completely separating his head from the rest of his body.

Many officers and civilians stood silent with mouths agape in horror as they looked up at the bloody crimson parody of human nature that literally looked like a human being turned inside out with its brains exposed and eight inch claws and talons where its hands and feet should be. To most of the people present this was an entirely new sight to them, but to Jake and David it was a familiar face that they had both hoped they wouldn't again have to encounter during their stay in Raccoon City.

The "Licker" as they called it let out a throaty, ragged hiss before it shot out its mile long tongue and cracked the concrete before a terrified uniformed officer.

"Oh...oh...oh God! K-Kill it!" the officer screamed firing his shotgun at the monster. His shells missed the creature by a long shot, chipping stone away from the exterior as the creature leapt gracefully away to avoid his shots. By then the other officers and survivors had been snapped from their trances and began firing upon the beast.

Officer Alfred Johnson had drawn an H&K VP-70 handgun and fired an entire clip in the monster's direction until his clip ran dry and it was then that he panicked. He fumbled around his utility belt for an extra clip and had finally grabbed one before the Licker stopped, letting out another ragged hiss and launching its tongue in his direction.

"Shit!" David and Ben gasped in unison as they watched the Licker launch its tongue straight through Alfred Johnson's torso and leave the man as it leapt into the air again. Johnson slowly turned around to face them with a look of shock upon his face as he reached down attempting to hold his intestines in place. It was a futile effort on his part as the color drained from his face and he collapsed backwards trying to mutter something to his co-workers.

Jake said nothing as he leapt down from the scaffold and fired away at the Licker. He managed to strike the creature three times and it let out a hideous squeal before it drove its lance-like tongue through another officer's chest and then leapt off into the shadows with every person present firing at it.

"Get back here you freak!" Sgt. Foreman cried firing his sidearm into the air, but was quickly restrained by several other officers present. Everybody else just stared silently at the corpses left behind by the hideous Licker not knowing what else to do. The station's double doors soon opened and another important-looking figure flanked by two uniformed officers entered the courtyard.

The newcomer was a Caucasian man of medium height with short reddish-blonde hair that was graying at the temples and closely cropped to his head. He wore a regular patrol uniform covered by a navy blue jacket that had an R.P.D. patch on the right shoulder and "R.P.D." emblazoned across the back in big blocky white letters with a white star above it, much like the insignia the S.W.A.T. officers had on the back of their flak jackets. In his right hand he carried a Benelli M3S shotgun, which he quickly raised into a combat position when he noticed the dead bodies laying on the concrete.

"What happened here?" he demanded nearly recoiling at the sight of his dead colleagues, "I told you to radio for backup if anything went wrong."

"It was awful Lt. Monroe," a female officer named Montoya replied.

"We lost Dauss and Rourke to those zombie bastards and then they bit up Fortay pretty bad. Then some skinless motherfucking lizard appeared and killed three more of our boys," Sgt. Foreman added.

"Fuck," Lt. Monroe swore as he surveyed the bodies. He didn't want to, but he had to look as he wanted to see which colleagues of his had been brutally and unjustly murdered by some creature that supposedly wasn't of this world. With a heavy sigh he spoke, "All right, get their bodies ready and gather any ammunition you can from them. Tell McCarthy to get the guys from the morgue up here."

Immediately the survivors went to work stripping the dead bodies of their fallen comrades for ammunition and anything else that could be of use. The hunter from the library offered cloths to cover the bodies' faces with and Jake watched as David and Ben searched the bodies and removed their badges. David noticed Jake staring at him and looked solemnly down towards the badge he held in his hands, "He was a good cop. If you can't give an officer a proper burial then you bury his badge and his weapons."

Jake nodded quietly to the officer and looked to the fallen officer Alfred Johnson. Sure, he may have been a pig and everything, but even he didn't deserve to go down like that and he found himself respecting the man's dedication to his cause. Judging by his age, he probably had a wife and kids, all of whom are probably dead by now, and had a somewhat normal life away from the force. All of that had been snuffed out in an instant by one of Umbrella's creations and he was sure that plenty of his surviving co-workers would probably be out to avenge the loss of a comrade.

As Jake stared at the officers going about their duty, he was approached by the police lieutenant, "Lt. Henry Monroe of the R.P.D. and you are?"

The career criminal instantly tensed up as he was approached by the police higher-up. So far he appeared to be virtually unknown in Raccoon City as nobody had run away screaming for the cops in his presence just yet and he silently hoped that this cop didn't recognize him from a mugshot. Right now though, he was displaying suspicious behavior unto itself as he stared at the officer's extended hand and slowly raised his head to stare the man directly into his hazel eyes. He stared quietly for a few seconds as he took in the man before him and was reluctant to even offer his alias knowing that the man would probably use it against him if he were to discover his true identity and try placing him under arrest. At the same time though, he didn't have much choice as the man was still a survivor who could probably help him out and he would need to play along with his little charade in order for that to happen.

"Son, are you all right?" the man asked stepping into his face, staring at him with a look of concern rather than suspicion. He would have to think fast.

"Jake," he spoke, "Jake Smith," he added returning the lieutenant's handshake, "I'm sorry, it's just that I'm still in shock after what transpired just now."

The officer stepped back and took another good look at him and Jake braced himself for what was to come. Much to his relief though, the lieutenant lowered his shotgun and ran a hand through his short hair and looked up with an apologetic expression. 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Smith," he said taking another step back and rubbing his face. "As you can probably see already, things have been rough around here. For the past few weeks our phones have been ringing off the hook with reports of mysterious assaults and murders occurring at random throughout the city and just a few days ago things started taking a turn for the worse. I've lost a lot friends and good cops over the past few days and now these "things" appearing..." The lieutenant trailed off glancing towards the station's exterior and then back to the career criminal. "It's good to see a civilian around here who at least knows how to defend himself. How the hell did you wind up in this mess?"

Jake took a deep breath and proceeded to calmly recite the same lie he had been telling everybody else since his arrival, "I'm a security guard. I'm on vacation so I was just passing through to get a drink before I continued on my way when this entire city started going to shit. Next thing I know, I've been spending the past two days running around this city avoiding those walking undead freaks and a whole bunch of other shit."

Lt. Monroe sagged his shoulders at the remark, "Damn, well I highly doubt you'll be able to get out anyway right now. Last I was informed, the military had erected barricades around the city and they're not letting anybody pass. They're very paranoid about whatever is causing this mess and are hellbent on containing it, but it's still not fair for them to leave us trapped in here like rats in a maze with all these zombies and those skinless things. Anyways, what matters is that you made it here safely, so let's get you inside and out of this rain."

"Sure thing," Jake replied as the lieutenant whirled on his heel and disappeared into the building. Officers from the morgue then appeared with bodybags coming to collect the remnants of their fallen comrades and the career criminal waited patiently for them to pass before making his way into the building. 

Inside the station things were very quiet and solemn as many officers struggled to take in what they had just witnessed outside and the deaths of several co-workers who had perished at the hands of those "things." Lt. Monroe had collapsed into the chair at the front reception desk and Sgt. Foreman had plopped himself down on the desk next to him and removed his stuffy helmet. The two higher-ups were joined by officers Marvin Branagh and Rita Wilcox, and two more younger police officers whom David and Ben had pointed out as Andy Parsons and Aaron Groening. Noticing that David and Ben stood nearby as well, he decided he would try to listen in on what the officers at the desk had to say and began walking towards the two S.W.A.T. officers.

"How are the wounded we have hidden in the evidence room doing?" Lt. Monroe asked Marvin, not looking him directly in the eyes, but rather up at the stained-glass window in the center of the north wall.

"It's not good, Lieutenant. Many of them are in bad condition from what seem like minor bites. They're dehydrated, delirious, fatigued, and passing in and out of consciousness. Dr. Peltz is doing everything he can for them, but with all the wounded survivors in the cafeteria, his supplies are running dangerously thin and soon we could be reduced to using toilet paper and super glue."

Lt. Monroe sunk further and almost fell out of the chair, catching himself at the last minute, "Not good at all. What about provisions and ammunition, how long do you expect them to hold out for?"

Marvin snorted, "With all the civilians we have shacked up here, I'd say maybe only a few days. If we're not out of here by then, we're screwed. Ammunition isn't much better. With that plan our basketcase chief came up with, all the shit is scattered throughout the station and it's gonna be like trying to find a needle in a haystack to gather all of it for a frontal assault. What's worse is that the person in charge of the weapons storage room key, Officer Wayne, is missing and hasn't been heard from since yesterday afternoon."

"Irons..." Monroe almost growled. He did not care for Brian Irons at all and could never quite comprehend how a brooding, incompetent slug like him could end up becoming a Chief of Police of all things, let alone be allowed to mingle with all the important officials of Raccoon City. The man behaved like a psychopath for God's sakes and could understand why none of his employees liked him, that should have been a sure fire red flag right there to the city officials. The graphic artwork he had an affinity for spoke major waves right there. He was greatly disturbed at the lack of action taken when the mysterious incidents began occurring all over the city and couldn't believe how some people actually bought it when he tried to pass off the disease sweeping into the city, the disease that had bodies stacking up over at Raccoon General in near mountains, as the Ebola Virus. Something truly was sinister and in a way he was thankful that this incident had possibly forever dashed the madman's hopes of winning the city's mayoral election. If one of those things outside didn't kill him, then he would personally put a bullet in the blimp's forehead and pass him off as a zombie he put out of its misery.

The battered lieutenant then turned his attention over to Sgt. Foreman, "What about your boys, Wade?"

Sgt. Foreman closely inspected his rifle before speaking, "I have Shepherd and his team performing a full sweep of the basement level as we speak. I've got men out front on watch and more boys up on the rooftop. They're providing security for when Kingsland and Steiner return from their aerial reconnaissance mission. A possible escape point might be at the city's airport. We could load up all the survivors and then airlift them over there and to freedom hopefully."

The news of a possible escape plan brought some ease to Lt. Monroe, but then he remembered the issues with the station's radio systems and focused on Rita Wilcox, "Wilcox, how is the station's radio system working out? Have we made any progress?"

"I'm afraid not LT," she replied with a regretful shake, "Things were already screwy before the attacks, but now things are totally F.U.B.A.R. Nothing but static no matter what we try. We can't get help from the nearest towns: Latham, Springvale, nowhere. We can't even call each other for help."

Lt. Henry Monroe stifled a groan, but held back knowing he had to keep his act together, "I'd say we're screwed, but what good is that going to do us? We have to do something or else everything will fall apart. We cannot let our comrades deaths be in vain. We have to do something to protect the innocent lives depending upon us. A plan must be formulated!"

"I hate to interrupt your little coffee clutch Lt. Monroe, but whatever your plan is, you'll have to think it up quick. We're gonna have to move fast as we can with those zombie freaks outside," Ben piped in motioning towards the front doors.

"Yeah, I've already seen plenty more of those skinless freaks running around the city and I don't wanna see another one anytime soon," David added looking towards Ben with a nod.

Jake was about to enter the conversation himself until he spotted a familiar face that immediately diverted his attention. On the second floor mezzanine, the young career criminal spotted the same Umbrella researcher he had spotted outside tossing the explosive chemicals at the zombies over the barricade, making his way towards the library and disappearing through the set of double doors. 

"Now's a chance for some possible leads," he thought to himself as he approached the door leading to the first floor waiting room. He had the man in his sights and now he was determined to get some answers regarding William Birkin's possible whereabouts. 


	20. Chapter 16: Innocence Of A Child

Darkness Arises by E-Z B

Author's Note: I have played Resident Evil 2 and I am aware of the R.P.D.'s layout and I haven't played Resident Evil: Outbreak - File 2 yet, but I am aware that in that game they do slightly modify the designs of some of the R.P.D.'s rooms. For this fic however, I might take some liberties with the station's layout based on designs of the original R.P.D. from the scrapped version of RE2 also known as "RE 1.5," in which the R.P.D. had more modernized looking offices and a shooting range, plus if you've played through RE2 you'll notice that the building doesn't even have any bathrooms, locker rooms (aside from the lockers in the offices and night watchman's room), or janitorial closets, so I might add some of those into the building's layout. This might be seen in future chapters, as well as the presence of zombies in some places that probably weren't there in the actual game(s) itself. For now, I'm just going to focus on the events of this chapter, but they may occur in future chapters. Read and review!

Chapter 16: Innocence Of A Child

To many a newcomer, the R.P.D. was a grand building laid out on a gargantuan scale, but to the officers who worked there they knew the place like the back of their hand. Even though he had not spent two full days in the facility yet, Jake had already memorized much of the western wing of the building. He made his way through the station's first floor waiting room and then made his way through a hallway containing the entrance to the station's file room, where several tense officers stood guard with weapons drawn at all times. Next he was led through another hallway that looked like a tornado had blown through with the tiled floor littered by debris and broken glass. There officers and civilians pounded away frantically trying their best to barricade shattered windows with boards, broken doors and tables, and anything else they could find. As soon as he entered, several officers behind him set up a dismantled table and began nailing it to the wall.

"What the hell do they think they're doing?" the career criminal asked a nearby older officer with thinning gray hair.

"It's just a precaution, son. Those zombie freaks are all over the place and with a place as large as this, you never know if they could be wandering around right under our noses or not."

"But boarding up a possible escape route?" he stared almost dumbfounded at the man, questioning the intelligence of even a living officer.

"Relax kid, we've got it high enough where you should be able to crawl underneath. I doubt any of those creatures have the intelligence to crawl underneath it, so you should still have an advantage."

"Uh ok," Jake said shrugging his shoulders as he moved through the cramped hallway and past the station's briefing room. The next hallway was much cleaner and contained entrances to the station's evidence room, which had two officers posted near the door, the dark room, and the stairs leading to the second floor where an overweight officer stood guard with a Browning HP handgun in one hand and the other rummaging through a box of doughnuts, which almost made him chuckle aloud. Ascending the staircase, he moved through the second floor hall, which at the end contained a bizarre-looking statue of some ancient god holding a masterfully crafted red jewel in hand flanked by two lesser busts on each side. A small door led to a gray hallway containing the S.T.A.R.S. office, which he decided against checking right now to avoid raising suspicions, and made his way around a corner into the second floor lounge, where a few battered officers reclined on the benches sipping sodas from the nearby machine and quietly speaking amongst themselves. The career criminal nodded to them and then made his way to the guarded library entrance and entered quietly.

Inside the atmosphere was still pretty much the same as it had been when Jake and the officers had gone outside to fight the zombies, quiet and sullen. Many of the survivors appeared to be agitated after learning that more zombies had been closing in and still appeared to be that way after learning that the latest horde of zombies had been vanquished. To the side he spotted Donald still holding his wife closely and could be heard whispering to her that everything was going to be all right. Samantha and Denise sat near them and were rejoined by Eric and D.J. who had both slipped in behind Jake. The same officers who had been standing guard before he left were still there and a few looked like they were about to nod off at their posts. Seated in a corner of the room, Jake also spotted the same balding, middle-aged man in the stained business suit, whom he had learned from some of the officers was Michael Warren, mayor of Raccoon City, and the attractive blonde woman in the white party dress at his side was his daughter Beverly. As before, he was surrounded by several police officers, including a completely bald officer who wore an outfit similar to Eric's and appeared to be in the middle of a deep conversation with the mayor.

Sitting near the base of the steps leading up to the catwalk was where Jake eventually found what he had come for. The young Umbrella researcher sat on an empty weapons crate sipping from a cup of hot cocoa and involved in a group discussion with two younger officers, the man in the green windbreaker from earlier, the biker called Ace and the young biker woman who had been manning the barricades the night before when he first arrived. He decided for now that he would join in on the conversation and hoped to get the researcher one-on-one in the hopes of falsely gaining his trust so he could possibly dig up some information on William Birkin. Nodding to the two officers who spotted him he made his way over to the group.

"I have no idea how all this B.S. started either. All I know is that I was at the Burger Shot over on Westhouse enjoying my meal after a long day at the rod and gun club when all these sick looking people started pounding on the window and the next thing I know, the cashier was being torn apart by one of those maniacs who slipped in through the backdoor," the man in the green windbreaker motioning towards the handgun resting on his lap.

"That sounds seriously fucked up there, dude," Ace replied after taking a long drag on his cigarette, "Not much different from my story though. Me and my buddy Rock were passin' through on I-96 hopin' to get over to Springvale where the rest of our gang is stayin' when the bikes started gettin' low on juice. Naturally we gotta pull over, so we stopped by this Stagla station over on Jack Nolan hopin' to fill up when those freaks started appearing from out of nowhere. Thank the big man upstairs for us havin' our pieces, but there was too damned many of those suckers. My buddy got a little wild and hit this barrel and it blew up, catching all this shrapnel in the poor fucker's side. Thankfully some old farmer guy was passin' through too. He gave us a ride here in his truck and here I am now, caught up in this mess separated from the rest of my buddies and another all wounded an' shit," the Road Demon explained stomping out his cigarette on the hard wood floor and looking up towards the others scratching his stubbled chin.

"Man, I've only been on the beat three weeks and I certainly didn't sign up for this shit. I thought my first few months on the job would be just me filling out paperwork and issuing traffic tickets," a youthful-looking officer named Silvers added with a glum expression, "Guess this is just my wake-up call. Looks like the R.P.D., more importantly that beached whale Chief Irons, found the need to put a little more faith into the abilities of his new recruits. Funny how I thought I would never come to actually resent that."

"None of us did, kid," the other officer named Barnes added, "Right now I'm kicking myself for not staying in Oakhill. Curse that fat bastard Irons for wanting me badly enough to bring me in at a time like this of all times."

"Heh, none of us were ready for this shit," Ace snorted, "Thought you coppers would have this entire mess under control by now anyway."

"Well it's not like fighting the living dead was in our job description to being with," Barnes shot back with heavy annoyance.

"Hey, mind if I join you?" Jake asked with a nod to the others.

"Sure take a seat, kid. Not like we're gonna try to bite ya' like all those rotting asses outside," Ace replied with a wave of his large hand.

"Hey, that's not funny!" the young woman finally cut in, "Half of us nearly lost our asses trying to get here and all you can do is sit around and joke about it?"

"Okay, okay sorry lady!" the grizzled biker replied raising his hands protectively into the air, "Geez and I thought my ex-wife was an uptight bitch," he added underneath his breath.

"I heard that! The name's Elza, Elza Walker and I am not an uptight bitch!" the woman replied with hands on her shapely hips.

"Mind you we're all in this together," the researcher spoke up finally, "We have greater things to worry about outside and the last thing we need is two still-breathing people fighting amongst themselves when we could all be working together to make it out of this nightmare alive."

Jake squinted at the man's nametag, which read "Sebastian Ramsey, Raccoon Division Level 6 Clearance."

"So mister..." the windbreaker man asked extending his hand.

"Smith, Jake Smith," he replied returning the man's handshake.

"Mr. Smith, what brings you into this entire mess?" the others leaning in closer waiting for the career criminal to reply.

"I'm on vacation and I was passing through when this entire mess started. I stopped by J's Bar for a quick meal and the next thing I know, we're being overrun by a bunch of mindless zombies. Been running around in this hellhole trying to survive the past two days."

"Some vacation you're going to be able to write home about, kid," the biker cut in. "My name's Ace, just Ace!" he said shoving his gloved hand in the man's direction.

"Just Ace?" Jake asked looking strangely towards the big man.

"Yeah, just Ace. Ace marksman, ace mechanic, ace card player...Just an ace at about everything. Nobody and I repeat nobody beats me at a good game of cards!" he proudly proclaimed with a thumb to his broad chest.

He had already known who Elza Walker was. The man in the green windbreaker introduced himself as Morris Denner and the two officers names were Joshua Silvers and Clinton Barnes. His primary focus however, remained on Sebastian Ramsey.

"Barnes, Silvers, move your asses downstairs! Lt. Monroe needs extra security detail on the west wing hallways!" an officer called out from the side entrance which Jake entered through. Both men shrugging, they quiet got up and exited the room.

"Well I'd better go see how my buddy's doing down in the cafeteria," Ace said rising back to his feet and stretching out his limbs, "Last I heard, Doc Peltz gave 'im enough sedative to put a horse out for days. With all those undead shits and that scaly motherfucker I heard 'bout outside, figure I better keep a closer eye on the guy."

"Take care," Morris spoke waving briefly to the man as he left and then stood up himself, "I know it's probably the weirdest time for this, but I've got the munchies again. I'm gonna go raid the nearest vending machine." He then stood up and exited the room.

"My uncle is somewhere in the building, I think I'm gonna go looking around for him. I was out for a nightly ride when everything started going crazy so I came here looking for him. I hope he's still all right with what happened earlier," Elza spoke as she stood up from her makeshift seat and nodded curtly to both men before she set off.

Finally, Jake had the Umbrella researcher all to himself and now would be a time for answers, but he would have to move along slowly.

"So...Dr. Ramsey..." the career criminal spoke acting like he had not already noticed the man's ID badge.

The young scientist's head perked up at the sound of his name being mentioned by a total stranger, but relaxed when he saw that the man had recognized his badge, "Oh...Sebastian is fine."

"Right...Sebastian...so how the hell did you wind up in this whole mess?" Jake asked leaning his head back and trying to act as normally as he could.

The researcher finished up his cup of hot cocoa and then cleared his throat, "Well, like many of the people here, I was on my way home from work last night when I was caught up in this madness." He briefly paused before he resumed, "I was about to take the nightly bus back to my apartment when all these weird looking people began appearing at random from the alleys and next thing I know, they were attacking these people outside a bar and then they killed them all..." As the man spoke those words, his eyes glazed over with a haunted look of remembered horror. Jake sat back and said nothing, having seen much of the same madness himself and felt a part of him relating to the man.

"My bus suddenly pulled up and I hoped to get out of there," he continued with great effort, "but I saw the driver...his face...he looked like one of those people too. Those people from the streets...there were more like them on the bus too..."

Jake still sat silently across from him, listening to everything the man had to say. Between the man's story sinking in, his mind had to process a made up tall-tale quickly for when it came time to mention Umbrella and how he would dig up his information on Dr. Birkin, "What else happened? If you don't mind me asking."

The was another several minutes long silence as the man slowly looked towards him with a pained stare and the water welling up in the man's blue eyes covered by his wire-rimmed spectacles, which he rapidly blinked away. It looked as if a war raged within his mind - one side telling him to trust the stranger and tell him everything he had encountered over the past two nights and the other to either run or shoot first and worry about the consequences later. Needless to say, the scientist was already telling a story with his facial expressions and Jake wondered if whether or not the man would be able to carry on the conversation long enough to tell him what he needed to know if he even knew at all. The young man had probably seen more than what the rational part of his mind could take, but as he spoke he could tell the man was determined to tell him everything he knew.

"Well I got off the bus and by then...those weird people had finally caught on to me and I did what I could do and ran. I must've ran at least four or five blocks before I bumped into some cops that had been at some barricade or something and barely escaped with their lives. They were running from those people too and there were more of them still on their tale. I tell you those guys were carrying pistols, shotguns, and even submachine guns and they fired everything they had at those weirdos, but they just wouldn't go down..." he answered all to matter-of-factly and all too quickly. The same hazy, glazed over look crossed the man's eyes again and he had to shake his head quickly to knock the look from his face.

"Damn..." Jake muttered leaning towards his newfound acquaintance.

"Something was seriously wrong with those people and you could tell with the way they mindlessly pursued us as if we were the special of the day..."

"Zombies," Jake interjected, "Rotting, smelly, blood-thirsty, Night of the Living Dead motherfuckers come to life."

As he expected, Sebastian nodded his head almost casually, "You hit the nail on the fucking head, man. Those things were everywhere. They dogged us at every opportunity on the way here. They managed to kill two of the cops with us and were about to kill me until we reached the barricades outside. Thankfully we had just arrived when a group of five, two other cops, a S.W.A.T. officer, and two young women, were making their way here. They fired at those things until they killed every last one of them, but that's not all. I've been hearing stories from other survivors around the station about demon dogs, skinless tongue creatures, giant bugs, and Volkswagen-sized spiders running around the city too."

Jake gave another nod without a word. He knew exactly who was in the group Sebastian had mentioned and stole a quick glance over in the direction where Donald and his wife, Eric, Denise, and Samantha all sat and then returned his attention to the Umbrella researcher. He also knew very well what the man was saying when he talked about demonic dogs, skinless tongue creatures, and giant bugs, but had yet to encounter the gigantic spiders just mentioned.

"You've seen all that shit too haven't you?" Sebastian asked noting Jake's expression. "You must know what I'm talking about if you're carrying that." The researcher nodded to the MP5 Jake held in his hands.

The career criminal shook his head wearily, "I didn't get this bad boy until earlier today when I was helping out against those bastards attacking us earlier. Believe me though, I've seen more than my fair share of what this freak show has to offer and I've got through God knows how many handgun and shotgun rounds and even freaking explosives I've gone through battling them."

"Damn, with everything I've seen around here I wouldn't be surprised if eight foot tall giants started appearing at random," the Umbrella researcher groaned. At first he thought the outlandish tales he had heard from the mouths of other survivors were nothing more than fairy tales imagined by people under the influence of some major drug, but he could tell by the haunted looks in their eyes and the quiver in their voices that they were not making things up. Every childish nightmare had been given physical existence in Raccoon City, the seemingly peaceful small city within the rural mountains.

"Heh, I wouldn't doubt it one bit," Jake replied as he remembered his three encounters with that large one-eyed, bazooka-wielding monster Jill had dubbed "Nemesis," which had in truth been responsible for the physical injuries inflicted upon him that he had passed off as wounds from a car crash.

"In any case, I'm just glad to see there are more living, breathing people in this city. Did you find anyone else out there?"

"Yeah," Jake said nodding over in the direction of his earlier travelling companions, "See that older cop holding the woman and the young woman in red? I ran into them out on the streets. They had a S.W.A.T. officer with them too, but he's still outside manning the barricades. There was some fat pig with us too, but they lost track of him. Wish they hadn't because he left me for dead and I'd sure as hell return the favor if I laid eyes upon him ever again. There's plenty more where that came from too," he explained as he scanned his thoughts for every living person he had encountered over the past two days that had actually walked away still alive in the end, "When I first came into town I stopped by some place called J's Bar, where I travelled with a small group of people. We all got separated when our van crashed and then something appeared and blew it up," he said figuring he'd better leave any mention of Nemesis out. "There was also some S.T.A.R.S. member I encountered, Brad his name was. He was here looking for his partner Jill and I found her too, but by the time I found her, she told me something killed him already. Also ran into a group of mercenaries sent by Umbrella, but I have no clue whatever happened to them."

"Oh..." the researcher slightly gasped, hanging onto the reference made about the mercenaries employed by his company, "Hopefully they're still alive and running around somewhere. If they're still among the living, then they should have the brains to outwit those undead things running around outside."

"I hope so too," the criminal spoke, a part of him showing some genuine concern for those he had been with earlier on, who by now were either dead or hopefully still alive and fighting to find a way out. Seeing that the researcher had settled down a little after being able to let it all out, he decided that maybe this would be a good time to inquire more about Dr. Birkin. "I hope you don't mind me noticing, but I see according to your nametag that you work with Umbrella yourself."

"Yes, yes I do. I'm in the company's bacteriology department. Most recently we've been working on a cure for cancer for quite some time now. We're hoping to get some mass produced products on the market within the next two years," he spoke in an almost triumphant tone, but then stopped and stared quizzically at the criminal, "Why do you ask?"

The explanation almost made Jake let out a grim chuckle as he knew what the company was really about through the files sent to him by the mysterious benefactor who wanted William Birkin dead. Nevertheless, he had some information to gather, "Tell me, are you by any chance familiar with a man named William Birkin?"

"Why yes I am," the man spoke trying to hide his puzzlement, "He's a top researcher with the Raccoon City division and I've worked underneath him on several projects. Are you an old friend of his or something?"

Jake smirked barely able to contain his excitement. He finally had a lead in this whole mess and now he knew that his decision to stay behind had finally paid off. "Yes, I know him from a couple years ago. He visited my school once back in my senior year to deliver a lecture on microbiology. Really sparked my interest in the subject and for a time I considered a possible career in the field. Unfortunately, my family didn't have the funding to send me off to a big fancy university, so I enlisted in the Army and eventually got discharged and now I'm where I'm at. I work for a prestigious firm that handles some pretty high-risk assignments, so I can't say that I'm in terrible shape otherwise right now. Good way to meet famous dignitaries," he chuckled ad-libbing into his fabricated background story, "Anyways, the guy and I kept in touch for several years. We exchanged letters and later e-mails back and forth until one day he just stopped. Haven't heard from him since. I figured since I'd be passing through the area I'd probably stop long enough to see if I could just track him down and catch up on the good old days."

Sebastian adjusted his glasses and gave a relieved smile, "Ah, so that's where you know him from. He never mentioned keeping in touch with students whose lives he's had a positive impact on, but you hardly know with him these days. He's so caught up in his work he hardly has the time to visit the local high schools for lectures, let alone visit any of us."

"Really? Have you heard from him recently? Before all this crap started up," Jake asked leaning towards the man.

"No, I haven't. Like I said, these days he's so caught up in his work you never know what's going on with him. Strangely enough, nobody else on my team seemed to have heard anything from him in like the last two weeks," Sebastian reported sitting back with a shaking head and his hands thrown up in the air to show he had just been stumped.

"Any idea what he could be working on that would take up so much of his time?"

"I have no clue," the researcher said rubbing the back of his neck, "And even if I did know, I wouldn't be able to tell you anyway for confidentiality reasons. The company is very protective of its research and any slip of the tongue results in immediate termination. Before his disappearnce though, I did hear him saying something to our project leader that it was going to be "something huge." It oughta' be huge if he's going to go into complete isolation over it."

"Oh..."

"Yeah," Sebastian continued, "From what Annette's been telling people around the office, she barely sees him outside of work either."

"Annette?" Jake asked suddenly stumped.

"Yeah, his wife. Poor thing though, she'd been acting all paranoid and shit around the labs recently. She too went missing just a few days ago and hasn't been heard from since. It's like they both just vanished off the face of the earth. I think I've seen his daughter running around here though. To keep the poor child alone in a place like this of all times sounds pretty cruel if you ask me."

Annette Birkin. That was right, according to company records Dr. Birkin was married and had a child too, the former was probably still somewhere in the city perhaps close to her husband. His daughter though being in the same location could warrant some possible leads as well if he could find her.

"Do you have any idea where any of them could possibly be at?" Jake asked leaning closer.

Sebastian exhaled deeply as he too tried to think of where they could possibly be found at, "I have no clue to be exact. From what I've heard around nobody has been able to reach them at home and their cell phones don't seem to be working either. Chances are they might be at the chemical plant near the city limits, but you can't get inside without proper authorization and I can't just take you there either. Their daughter on the other hand, last I heard she was entrusted to the care of some station volunteer from the local high school. I think he had her in one of the east wing offices, but I don't know for sure because she wouldn't let me come anywhere near her and that's weird because she knows who I am from my visits to their house."

"Uh-huh, well I'll see if I can find her then. I'm sure her father might have at least mentioned my name around her before. Thanks for the info though," Jake said standing up and shaking the man's hand.

"You shouldn't be able to miss her, she looks just like him," Sebastian called out as he walked away. Jake pulled out the photo of William Birkin included with the envelope delivered to his doorstep and made sure to study it closely so he would have a possible idea of what the young girl looked like as he began his search for her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sherry Birkin shifted uncomfortably in front of the vending machine as she waited for the bag of Ray's Potato Chips to fall into the chute before her so she could tear it open and indulge her screaming taste buds. It had been days since she had the luxury of enjoying a normal meal and with everything that had been going on outside, she wasn't able to go home or go to the nearest restaurant and enjoy a finely cooked meal. Until then, she had been forced to live off rations stored around the station and the odd snack from the nearest vending machine whenever a kindly officer was able to offer her a dollar so she could enjoy a quick meal. The latest dollar issued to her had been from Kenny Feng, the station volunteer who had been assigned to look after her.

She almost felt guilty having to sponge off of the officers like that, but at the same time they were probably the only people who could protect her since she was told that it wasn't safe to go back home. Her mother's voice suddenly rang throughout her head as she remembered the rushed phone call from her mother, who instructed her to immediately head for the police station to seek shelter. Baffled, but at the same time being the ever-so-dutiful daughter, she did as instructed and had remained here for the past four days, where she had overheard terrifying reports from civilians seeking shelter who claimed to have been attacked by sickly looking people and ravenous animals. Perhaps her mother's reasons for sending her here had been justified after all.

Unfortunately, there was little in the way of entertainment at the station especially with the frantic disarray that had been caused by the officers and civilians rushing back and forth at a manic pace. The only continual source of comfort she could find was from socializing with the numerous civilians who had been present throughout the station, including a couple of her friends from school who had made it here to avoid the chaos outside. Several officers had been very kind and generous to her too, providing her with pens and paper to draw with, giving her their leftover snacks, and letting her read the numerous books and newspapers scattered around the offices.

Probably the person she enjoyed being around the most right now though was Kenny. He had been a volunteer from Raccoon City Secondary School interested in pursuing a law-related career and was assigned to look after her by Officers Wilcox and Bernstein when he refused to leave his friends and co-workers behind. At first he appeared to be very aloof and uncomfortable, showing that he hadn't had much experience in dealing with children. Sherry perfectly understood his situation after going through numerous babysitters back home who had little or no experience with children, so she tried to be as nice as she possibly could. After a while though, she had managed to establish somewhat of a bond where he could feel a bit more pleasant in her presence. They eventually began to talk a little more and she had become greatly intrigued about his stories from when he lived in Tokyo, the stuff he did with his friends from R.C.S.S., hanging around Officer Ryman when he went on patrol, his future plans, and so much more. It was almost like having an older brother to her and she hoped they could make it out together so they could visit the amusement parks and do so much more that beckoned them from beyond the confines of a barricaded Raccoon City.

At the moment, Kenny had been called away to run an errand with Officers Wilcox and Branagh and had given her a dollar so she could get a snack from one of the machines outside the east wing office, which was devoid of life as most civilian survivors had probably made their way to the safety of the library by now. Sherry, being the vagabond-like soul that she is, didn't want to be confined in a cramped space for too long and it was only with Kenny's reluctant permission that she had been allowed to travel alongside him as he made his way through the station.

Becoming irritated by the ancient machine in dire need of repair, Sherry pulled out her map to find the nearest vending machine and found that it would be halfway across the building in the cafeteria, but she didn't want to go in there with all those sick and injured people lying around. For now it seemed like a better idea to wait. As she waited she placed the map in her pocket and then took the time to go through the other earthly possessions she carried on her at the moment. 

Around her neck she wore a finely crafted gold pendant given to her by her father, which housed a family portrait from a few years back. She was almost brought to tears staring at the image of her with her smiling parents from happier times. The poor girl could not picture her life without her parents as they were the only immediate family she had left, aside from distant aunts, uncles, and cousins who really wanted nothing to do with her parents because of their workaholic lifestyles. Besides the station map given to her by Kenny, he had also given her a light green blanket to keep herself warm with after the station's heating and cooling were knocked out of commission and she still kept it draped over her shoulders as she stood waiting. A can of Umbrella, Inc. manufactured first-aid spray was kept safely in another pocket, given to her by her mother who had become paranoid recently mentioning some sort of virus infecting the town's citizens and not wanting her to catch it. The stuff was designed only to treat wounds and skin irritations, not fight off some mysterious illness.

As she thought of her possessions, she suddenly remembered another item she had found in the station and withdrew a silver key that had a pink diamond design on the end. The key had been dropped by an officer rushing outside with shotgun in hand to helped reinforce the outside barricades. She had hoped to return it to the nice man once he had come back, but that was hours ago and he still hadn't returned. Maybe one of those sick people had gotten their hands on him.

The thought of those sick people sent a chill down her spine and she shook her head to help dissolve those thoughts. They already frightened her enough from what she had seen on the streets and wanted to think of more positive things right now.

A loud ding rang out and Sherry looked up anxiously to see the bag of potato chips fall from its shelf and into the waiting chute.

"Finally!" she blurted out in childish glee and quickly snatched it up and tore the bag open, stuffing a handful of the crisp cheese and sour cream rippled chips into her watery mouth. Everything around her suddenly changed as her hunger was temporarily quenched and within seconds she had completely devoured everything in the bag and then made her way over to a nearby water cooler and enjoyed the cool liquid flowing down her throat.

"Now to find Kenny," she thought to herself as she headed towards hallway exit. She knew he had told her to stay put, but she felt lonely as the sergeant's office she had been left in was small and cramped and hardly any officers had passed through since the big fight with the sick people outside.

Sherry looked around for any officers or civilians present and then slowly approached the tan oak door that stood before her. Before her hand could even touch the knob, the door had already opened and she gulped aloud as her form was completely enveloped by a large shadow.

Before her stood a large man who measured well over six feet in height, almost looking like a midget next to him with her mere four foot ten inch figure. The man had a muscular build that was barely covered by the clothing he wore. He was dressed like one of those goth rockers she had seen on the cover of a Metal Edge magazine, wearing a filthy long black trenchcoat that barely ended above his shins, black cargo pants, red, black, and silver Nike tennis shoes, black fingerless gloves, and most noticeably a tattered black t-shirt that once displayed an elaborate design of a red dragon, now ripped apart and revealing the Kevlar vest he wore underneath. In awe by his muscular body alone, Sherry slowly guided herself up to his face. With a slightly tanned complexion, he was still easily identified as Caucasian with a chiseled face obscured slightly by a pitch black goatee resting upon his chin. He had short black hair worn spiked up and stared upon her with cold blue-gray eyes emphasized by bushy black eyebrows that gave him an intimidating, almost vampiric stare.

The man looked like a stereotypical stranger parents warned their children never to talk to, and more so he looked like one of the shady figures the young girl had noticed hanging around her neighborhood recently, most notably around her house. She recalled overhearing her parents arguing one night about some "mysterious types" that were out to get them and they had to carry protection at all times or else they would steal her father's "life's work."

Frightened by the large man, there was only one thing young Sherry Birkin could do...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

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The little girl stood before him draped in a light green blanket, covering a sailor suit he would only expect to find on a toddler. She had chin-length blonde hair, bright blue eyes, a round cherubic face, and a small button nose, but he recognized that face right away.

"That's gotta be Birkin's daughter! No doubt!" his mind shouted to him.

The little Birkin girl was instantly frightened by his appearance and let out an ear-piercing scream that would no doubt attract the attention of any officers nearby. The blanket draped around her shoulders fell to the floor and she broke off into a sprint towards the blue double doors leading to the east wing offices.

Jake said nothing and began his pursuit knowing that her small legs probably wouldn't take her too far. He almost knocked the doors off their hinges and dashed through the office not caring if there were any officers present, which there weren't thankfully, and entered a small side hallway noticing a door close right in front of him. Picking up his speed he approached the door and threw it open, finding himself in a hallway covered by an icky looking yellow wallpaper and lined with windows on the other side. The little girl stood before him buckled over and out of breath, but shot straight up once she noticed the career criminal had followed her.

"No...please..." she begged, but was cut off by the sound of glass shattering.

Throwing the girl to the floor, a window behind her shattered into a million pieces and a snarling German Shepherd landed gracefully on the floor.

Horror raced through the girl's mind as the monstrosity stood before her, patches of missing skin revealing its glistening muscle underneath, its tail ripped from its backside, and most of the flesh torn from its face, revealing a hideous permanent grin beneath. The creature let out a demented bark before it reared back ready to strike.

"Get down!"

The little girl looked back to Jake just as he withdrew his MP5 and took aim upon the creature. Instinctively she threw herself face down to the ground with her arms placed protectively above her head.

Without a word, Jake fired a volley of hot lead into the former police dog's side, sending it flying full force against the wall behind it and loosening most of the plaster where it struck. The zombified dog was still alive, but severely wounded and unable to move. The Birkin girl raised her arms a little to look at the wounded dog, but Jake stood above her and motioned for her to look away.

Never taking his eyes off the dog, Jake quietly walked over to the mutated mutt and fired a single round into its skull.

"Stay!"

A door opened behind them and Jake whirled around to find three police officers entering the hall with weapons drawn. "What's going on here? We heard a little girl scream and then a bunch of gunfire?" The officers were cut off as they noticed the little girl laying on the floor rising up to her hands and knees.

"Sweetie, what just happened here?" the same officer asked now taking note of Jake holding his smoking MP5 and the dead dog he stood over.

The little girl stood up and turned around to face Jake and saw what he had just done and then turned around to address the officers, "That man...he just saved my life!"

The police officers then looked to Jake who now smirked at them, "It's okay gentlemen, she's with me."

Birkin's daughter looked back at him suddenly wide-eyed, but he gave her a look telling her to play along. With great reluctance the young girl turned around and slowly nodded to the officers.

"Okay, get her out of here sir!" the officer ordered and then turned to the others, "Tell the boys to get over here. We need this window boarded up before more of those crazies can sneak in here!"

Jake now walked up to the girl, who immediately whirled around. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you," he barked raising his hand protectively. The career criminal stopped suddenly when he realized that his tone sounded too authoritative. He didn't have much experience dealing with children, but he knew she probably wouldn't take too kindly to somebody ordering her around like a drill sergeant at a time like this. "I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated, this time in a more soothing voice and holstered his weapon to show that he meant no harm. Jake then slowly stepped towards the girl with a hand outstretched, "My name is Jake, what's yours?" he asked trying to sound as gentle as he possibly could.

The girl looked at him nervously. She felt he looked like a creepy stranger, but at the same time he had just saved her life. Tilting her head to one side to avoid eye contact she mumbled "Sherry, Sherry Birkin."

"Ah, you must be William Birkin's daughter."

Sherry Birkin suddenly looked up to Jake with eyes wide as saucers, "How do you know my daddy's name?"

"Relax kid," Jake replied raising both hands, "Your dad is an old friend of mine."

Now she was confused. Sherry was absolutely baffled that her father would hang out with a grizzled-looking man who looked like a cross between a bum off the streets and a death row inmate. All of the guests to their house had been well-groomed, friendly looking people from upscale settings who were invited over for barbecues and golf outings. This man at the most looked like somebody who would mow their lawn while being heckled by the Van Smythe family from across the street, a snobbish, upscale family who looked down upon the poor as wastes of human flesh who should be confined to the downtown area "where the rest of the vermin lived." At the same time though, this man had saved her life, so he couldn't be all that bad.

Immediately the man approached a nearby door leading to the night watchman's quarters and tried the knob a few times. He then pulled out a strange-looking device and motioned for Sherry to remain quiet as he went to work on the door for a few seconds and then with a loud click, undid the lock and motioned for the girl to follow him inside.

Inside the room was basically a small lounge lined with lockers and a back area set up as a bedroom with two sets of bunk beds. The table was covered with half-consumed food that had obviously been abandoned when the main siege of the station began. Jake immediately sat down at the table and ordered Sherry to join him. Throughout the mess he had managed to find some cold pizza and untouched sodas and candy and the two of them sat together for nearly an hour with Jake relaying many of the same falsehoods to Sherry about being an old friend of her father's as he had done with Sebastian in the library.

Jake didn't like lying to the girl one bit, but this was a time where he really had no other choice as she could possibly provide him with some much needed information. Besides, his battle wasn't with her anyway as harming children was not his style. In a way though, he almost felt as if he would be doing her a favor if he were to rub out her father. The cute, innocent girl that sat before him was spawned by cruel, amoral, and inhuman people who probably showed little care for humanity and only cared about filling their wallets. He knew that he was probably one to talk with his own shady background, but the career criminal operated within his own set of morals and avoided those who did no harm to him and with everything he had been through in the past two days, her father had done plenty of harm to him as most of these creatures were probably part of his research. You could almost say that he would be doing this as much for Sherry as he would be doing for himself.

"So where were your parents when you last heard from them?" Jake asked taking a sip from a Loco Cola.

Sherry finished up her piece of pizza before she spoke, "At work. My daddy hasn't been home in like two weeks, which is nothing new. He practically lives out of his office and only comes home when absolutely necessary. Believe me, he's gone even longer periods without setting foot in the house."

"I see," Jake said leaning back, "What about your mother?"

"Mom was home like five days ago. She called me at school and told me that it wasn't safe to go home anymore, so I came here and then people started acting weird outside, like they were really sick or something."

Jake said nothing and only nodded to her response. In a way he related to the girl. He grew up in a household with an abusive father and a mother who would be beaten severely if she even tried coming to his defense. He never really had a close relationship with his father and it was often at the elder Cavanaugh's insistence that he was left to fend for himself most of the time because he saw him as "a fuck up who would never amount to anything." He almost smiled as he thought of the night he gunned his father down. It was horrifying at first, but then as it sunk in he felt as if he had lifted a burden from his shoulders and did his mother and siblings a favor.

"Where do your parents work?" he further inquired.

"At the chemical plant...near the city limits!" she spoke between sips of her soda.

"Okay, can you tell me how to get there? I promise I'll try to find your dad," Jake asked leaning closer to the girl.

Listening closely, she explained to Jake everything she could recall from previous visits. He took in all of her information like a data processor and realized that what she gave him involved travelling through the streets, which was practically suicide. The crafty career criminal had other ideas though.

"Alright, I thank you very much for your cooperation. Now that we're done with our meal maybe I should take you back to where I found you," he said standing up and walking towards the door.

"That would be great! I could introduce you to my new friend Kenny!" she shouted gleefully as she led the way back towards the east wing offices. Jake had other ideas in mind though.

"Sorry, I sort of have to meet with a friend back in the library, but I'm very sure I will eventually meet your new friend," Jake explained as he led her through the east wing offices, where several officers came charging through with square timbers and carpentry tools. He eventually led Sherry back to the hall where he first discovered her and set her down on a bench and then got down on one knee to look her directly in the eye, "Alright Sherry, I want you to promise me that you will stay here and not move a muscle until your friend gets back. Do you understand?"

Sherry looked at him with a sad expression that she didn't want him to leave. It was only with a great effort that she nodded, "Okay, I understand. Please find my parents."

"I can't make any promises kid, but I will try," Jake replied with a wink as he rose back to his feet.

"Jake wait!" she said standing up again. The tall career criminal turned around to find her presenting him with a key, "Please, take this. One of the officers dropped it when he went outside, but he never came back. I want you to have it. It should be easier to get through the station then."

Jake studied the key closely. It was mostly just a plain silver key, but the head of the key had a unique diamond design with a pink interior. Truly a weird design for a police station's key, but then again this was no ordinary station. With a smile crossing his rugged features, Jake gladly accepted the key and placed it in one of his many pockets.

"Sherry!" the youthful voice of a teenaged male called out.

The young girl's ears instantly perked up, "Kenny!" she called back. Jake looked down upon the young girl whose attention had now been diverted and he gave her a quick nod before walking away and disappearing through the nearest door.

"Sherry, there you are!" the young man called out as he raced around the corner and halted to catch his breath. He was fifteen years old and stood aroud five feet six inches with a lean build. He was of Chinese descent with the yellow-tinted skin, dark brown eyes, and pitch black hair he normally wore gelled up, but it hung down in long bangs at the moment nearly obscuring his vision. "Where have you been? I told you to stay in Lt. Monroe's office," he demanded as he noticed her blanket and quickly walked over to it and gave it to her.

"I-I-I wanted to see where you were a..." she sheepishly explained staring down at the floor and trying to avoid eye contact with a ticked off Kenny.

"Oh god, I knew I shouldn't have left you alone like that," he cut in slapping himself on the forehead, "You could've been killed with those things running around outside!"

"One of those bad dogs almost bit me," the girl admitted wrapping the blanket tighter around her quivering body, "But this man showed up and saved me. He said his name was Jake and he was an old friend of my daddy's!"

The mention of a "friend of her father's" that she seemingly just met sent chills down Kenny's spine. A shady individual possibly involved with Umbrella had penetrated the safety of the police station and he knew that he had better tell somebody before something went down. Thinking of the way his close friend Phil Barrett had been abducted just days before by those thugs from Umbrella elevated his urgency to tell somebody before it was too late.

"Come on," he ordered failing to conceal the urgency in his tone, "We have to get you to the library at once. There will be more officers around to protect you there!" Without any further words, he grabbed the young girl by the arm and quickly led her on a shortcut to the library that involved them going through an outdoor emergency exit and up another flight of stairs going through several hallways before they reached the library.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake had just stepped back into the station's main hall where shotgun-toting officers now guarded each side of the main entrance. A few S.W.A.T. officers armed with assault rifles now maintained sentry duty on the second floor balcony and the hunter who had been in the library earlier now stood with them manning a position near the fire ladder, which had been raised again for the moment. The blonde officer with the southern drawl, Officer Rita Wilcox, stood at the main desk again surrounded by a few more new faces. The first was an attractive young female officer with masses of curly strawberry-blonde hair covering her head and wearing a uniform similar to Rita's. The second was a short and stocky older man wearing a navy blue janitorial-looking outfit different from the other officer's uniforms and wore a matching hat that covered a bald head.

The trio appeared to be in the middle of a deep conversation and Rita's face was flushed and her eyes were a bloodshot red like she had just been crying a lot and the other female cop put a supportive arm around her shoulders. Jake strained his ears hoping to pick up on the conversation, but before he could hear anything important another voice boomed from out of the blue.

"Hey yo' Smith!"

Jake looked forward again to find Marvin Branagh entering through the main double doors with shotgun resting at his side. He looked to be a little more upbeat knowing that no more zombies had been spotted for the last few hours, but still erring on the side of caution at the same time.

"What's up?" Jake asked leaning against the nearby railing.

"Listen, I spoke to some of the guys outside. There's going to be a meeting in the station's briefing room in a half an hour. We're gonna try and plan an escape route out of this place and we were wondering if you wanted to stop by since you seem to be a pretty good fighter and could back us up if we needed you to?"

Another one of the absolute last places Jake Cavanaugh ever thought he would find himself, invited to a station briefing. The offer was almost humorous to him, but at the same time he could understand that many men were worn down by the events of the past few days and even more had been killed. They were going to need all the manpower they could get in order for their plans to succeed. Sure, he had his own agenda, but for now he would play along until he would have enough time to escape. Looking down to his watch he saw that it was already four o'clock in the afternoon.

"Okay, I'll be there."

A/N: Well that's my latest chapter and I'd say I did pretty good for an unplanned chapter that literally came from out of nowhere. I'm sure anybody who has seen "Resident Evil: Apocalypse" would pick up the reference to the movie. I realize in the RE games that the R.P.D. uses Dobermans as their police dogs, but I doubt you'd find that many Dobermans in one city, so I threw in a German Shepherd to add some variety to the mix, there might be some stations out there that use more than one breed of police dog, never know for sure.

On an additional note, Kenny Feng is the property of noctorro and you can look for him in the great RE fanfics "ACT 4: BIOHAZARD The Prelude to Horror" and "ACT 5: BIOHAZARD World of the Undead," I highly recommend checking out both fics, especially the former since him, Hyperactive Hamster of Doom, Desertcross4, and I all have our fics going as sort of an "intertwined universe" where all of our fics happen at the same time.

Speaking of Hyperactive Hamster of Doom, the "Officer Bernstein" mentioned is Amber Bernstein and she is the property of HHoD. Look for her to appear in "Resident Evil: Project Lucifer," "Resident Evil: Fallout," and "Resident Evil: Double Amber," all kick ass fics I highly recommend as well.

Well that's it for now so this is E-Z B saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/ 


	21. Chapter 17: A Tense Meeting

Darkness Arises by E-Z B

Chapter 17: A Tense Meeting

The Raccoon Police Department's briefing room reminded Jake more of a high school classroom than it did a police station's briefing room. Rows of small desks took up most of the floor space and left most of the officers present huddled closely to one another, a big desk at the front of the room covered in miscellaneous clutter making him think of his always disorganized 11th grade American History teacher, an American flag stood upside down in the corner making him almost laugh out loud at how this could go unnoticed amongst the officers for so long, and posters dotted the walls, this time maps of the general Raccoon City area and of wanted criminals, a miracle his face wasn't among them. A chalkboard with a map of the station's layout drawn upon it stood at the very end of the room behind a podium with several marks dotting what he believed to be important locations.

Officers of all ranks and departments packed the room, a few heavily armed civilians among them. Perhaps Jake's fabricated story of having served in the Army and being a security guard had secured him his position in this important meeting and maybe the other civilians had military backgrounds, or were well-trained for armed combat, and were used to operating in teams to complete high-risk mission objectives together. The officers present comprised of regular uniformed officers, plain clothes detectives, and the heavily armored S.W.A.T. officers, all gathered under one roof and temporarily setting aside their differences in police tactics to come together for one common cause. At the moment everybody was either involved in a conversation with somebody close to them, getting refreshments from the vending machines at the back of the room, or sat there quietly waiting for what was about to happen.

Jake stood at the back of the room staring indifferently at those around him. He admired their drive to succeed and at the back of his mind there was a small voice telling him that he should probably try to escape with the rest of the officers. However, the drive to accomplish his mission and collect the payoff were winning the battle and he waited to overhear what kind of escape plans the officers would think up so he could then form his own escape plan.

Using his height advantage, he scanned the entire crowd and managed to pick out Marvin Branagh, Elliott Edward, Sgt. Neil Carlsen, Raymond Green, and David Ford in the mix, the latter of whom sat off to the side with his head hung low and clutching his Mossburg shotgun as if he were holding a newborn child while the rest chatted with fellow officers trying to joke around with them and ease the tension.

"So I see you're another innocent soul caught up in this whole mess too," a voice came from beside him. Jake looked over to see a younger blonde-haired officer named Castor who looked like he was ready to take on an entire platoon of the undead holding an MP5 in hand with a Beretta tucked into his side holster, a .38 revolver tucked into a shin holster, police baton tucked into his belt, and a survival knife resting in a special holster around his shoulder.

"I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Damned wrong turn," Jake cursed looking towards the officer.

"Well at least you found us and right now we're planning an escape route outta this hellhole. Might as well stick with us while you can," Castor replied partially sitting on a table behind them.

"Why not? Didn't wanna die alone anyway," the career criminal said looking away.

The double doors flew open and in stormed Mayor Michael Warren, flanked by Lt. Monroe, Sgt. Foreman, the bald officer from the library, and another uniformed officer. The short man nodded to those around him as he made his way towards the podium at the front of the room and then receieved some papers from Sgt. Foreman. Marvin and Sgt. Carlsen joined the group of men and the room fell silent as the men reviewed documents and maps. The seven men chatted quietly amongst themselves before they finally seemed to reach an agreement and Lt. Monroe stood side by side with the mayor as they readied themselves for the speech.

Mayor Warren cleared his throat and began. "I want to thank all of you for being able to join me in this difficult time as this series of events will require our full cooperation with each other."

Every officer present sat as quietly as a church mouse with their undivided attention focused on the front of the room. They did not want to miss a single word as this was a matter of life and death for both them and every single innocent civilian under their watch. If they wanted to make it out alive, then they hoped that they superiors they had entrusted their lives to would be able to think up an effective plan that would allow them to escape safely from the city and be with their remaining friends and family. Whatever was about to come their way they were mentally readying themselves for.

"As all of you may know, for the past two nights our fair city has been overwhelmed by the living dead. Despite our best combined efforts, their numbers have proven too great for our own and barely within the span of 72 hours have they managed to take over most of the city. I know this will be a difficult decision for all of us to make, but we have no other choice," the mayor spoke lowering his head and staring at the maps laid out in front of him, "We must evacuate Raccoon City."

Those words hit home to many officers present and they murmured their disbelief quietly to each other. Evacuating the city was indeed going to be a difficult situation for many of them as some were life-long citizens of the city or had spent a majority of their lives here. This was a city where they met their loved ones, raised families, had many close friends and associates, hung out at the bars and shops, so much would they lose.

Jake stood silently observing the reaction of the officers. Being an outsider he had nothing to lose in this city, but he could understand their grief having lost much in life himself. Normally these men would be scrambling to throw him into the nearest jail cell, right now they had bigger things to worry about and he wished them luck in their endeavor as he would soon be departing them.

Mayor Warren took some heavy breaths and continued his speech, "For the past few hours, myself, Lt. Monroe and Sgt. Foreman have been reviewing maps of the general Raccoon area and have already planned out some possible escape scenarios for this momentous task we are about to undertake." He handed a rolled up map to the two nameless officers and they pinned each side to a section of the blackboard untouched by the drawn up station layout. "For the next part of this briefing I will turn the floor over to Lt. Monroe and Sgt. Foreman," he spoke taking a position next to the bald officer.

"Thank you Mayor Warren," Lt. Monroe spoke grabbing a stick and approaching the map. "Due to the spread of the outbreak, numerous accidents have occurred all over the city and have heavily congested many of the streets and major highways. Combined with the raging blazes and mobs of undead roaming the streets, it would be virtually impossible to pass through the general downtown business, West and South Side districts by vehicle and trying to lead sixty plus survivors through the streets would be a damned suicide mission." The lieutenant then returned his attention to the map and pointed the end at the R.P.D. building, "We are presently here in the R.P.D. 1st Precinct House located towards the very center of town. Because of the heavily obstructed streets, Sgt. Foreman has sent two of his men in our last chopper to scout the surrounding area for any possible escape points and we believe one possible evac point might be here!" Monroe brought the stick to a large tan area located at the very edge of the city, "The Raccoon City Airport." 

Lowering the stick he continued, "From what they assessed, most of the general area appeared to be free of any possible threats and that makes things much easier for our primary evacuation plan. Our plan is to use our last remaining chopper to airlift survivors from the station over to the airfield where there should be a commercial airliner or at least plenty of smaller aircrafts available that we will be able to use to evacuate survivors to the nearest city." Lt. Monroe then moved the stick and touched points outside of the Raccoon City area shown on the map. "There are several surrounding cities in Arklay County with commercial airports where we would be able to touch down. Among them, Latham, Oakhill, Eagle Point, and Gainsborough. Because of the outbreak, chances are very high that many available aircraft are probably low on fuel and maintenance. Probably our best option in this whole case is to fly over to Eagle Point."

Lt. Monroe began looking around the room as he spoke again, this time looking for a familiar face. "As good as this idea sounds though, it does have one major downside. Because of the lack of space in the back of the chopper we might only be able to fit between eight and ten survivors, not counting at least one armed officer we will have to send along for every group. Therefore, it would be a very time consuming plan that would require at least six or seven trips back and forth between the station and the airport and we don't have much time left, further evidenced by that attack we barely held off earlier. Not only that, it will also require an experienced pilot to get a craft warmed up and ready for takeoff. Kingsland and Steiner will be occupied with the trips back and forth, Falco is out of town on vacation and couldn't be reached, Vickers from S.T.A.R.S. is missing and Attleburgh is dead. That leaves us with only one available choice," Lt. Monroe stopped as he finally found his person, an officer with a short red buzzcut and small goatee, "Strid, you are the only person left here with any pilot experience. Would you be able to fly the survivors to safety?"

Strid nodded slightly, "Well it's been a few years since my Air Force service and I haven't flown anything since then. I was never taught how to fly anything bigger than an F-16, but I'm sure I could manage. I was always a fast learner there anyway."

"Excellent, then I will personally see to it that you are on the first flight out of this city," Monroe spoke in an enthusiastic tone, but quickly lowered into a more serious tone as he continued, "If the airport has no additional aircraft then I am personally ordering you to get those people out of there by any means. I don't give a damn if you have to cram fifteen people into one tiny minivan, get them out of there by any means necessary." Strid nodded again in reply.

"What about backup plans if you have any, Lieutenant?" another officer called out.

"We actually have two backup plans Bronson and I am about to go over them now," the lieutenant replied taking a brief pause before speaking up again. "Our backup plans we have formulated are in many ways much quicker than our Plan A, but they are also much more dangerous and are to be used as an absolute last resort."

The words "last resort" made many officers tense up and display various masks of doubt and anxiety, but yet they sat ready to receive whatever information was about to come their way.

"In the instance of our escape chopper being damaged, our first plan will be to round up the survivors and exit through the manhole in our kennels, where we should be able to lead them into another city from there."

This plan did not sit well with the officers one bit and many were quick to voice their disapproval of the idea.

"We can't just lead a bunch of unarmed civilians through the sewer system! It would be too dark for us to keep track of all them and how can we be certain that there aren't any of those "things" lurking down there?"

"Yeah, remember what happened to those people who tried to escape when that whack job reporter came in telling them there was a way out through the sewers! None of them ever came back!"

"Plus Carlsen told us about his encounter with that mysterious fellow down in the sewers and he discovered those explosives! How can we be certain there isn't some whacko down there planning something sinister under our noses!"

"Not only that, we've been getting those reports of those eerie sounds coming from the drainage system over on Campbell St. Mind you eight women have already gone missing because of whatever is going on over there and we don't need anymore innocents turning up missing after what's going on up above!"

"Have you even been provided with any useful maps of our sewer system? We're going to need to know where we're at or else we could end up far off in some unknown location or worse..."

"It would be suicide!"

Lt. Monroe seemed to take the criticism well and only stood quietly as he was bombarded with complaints. He waited for many of the voices to die down before he made a loud throat-clearing sound which again silenced everybody in the room.

"I understand all of your concerns perfectly well, but we might not have much other choice. Yes, it is a darkened maze down there and we have no idea of what might be lurking down there, but for the sake of the innocents under our watch it is a risk I am willing to take. Our plan is to gather up the survivors into groups of six to eight with one or two armed officers for every group. From what I understand, many of the civilians present have brought their own firearms, probably the only reason why most of them have survived this far into the madness. I will make sure there is at least one armed civilian in every group as well.

"Days before the incident, Chief Irons ordered his new secretary Heather to make a bunch of photo copies of the general Raccoon sewer system layout. For what reason we have no clue, but since the fat pig has himself locked away in his office when we need him the most she figured she might as well give them out to us. Each group will receive a map that should point them towards the outskirts of the city and hopefully to their safety. If you would much rather try to lead them through the streets on foot then be my guest. That would be suicide right there!"

"What's the other backup plan, LT?" another officer called out.

The weary lieutenant looked back to his cohorts surrounding him up front before continuing, "The last plan was meant to coincide with Plan B if we are forced to resort to it. 

"The military has declared martial law and has barricaded all major exits to and from the city, almost as if they're treating this case like there are no ordinary humans left in Raccoon. Unfortunately, our radio system isn't functioning properly and we are unable to reach them for assistance. There are still two extra vans parked down in the car park. Last I heard, Officer Muntz was with them and I've ordered him to stay put in case of an emergency. We received a radio transmission from Shepherd not too long ago and so far everything is clear.

"Our plan is to have a group of heavily armed survivors make their way to the car park, where they will then load up and try to reach the nearest barricade." Lt. Monroe once again raised the stick to the map and moved it along a bold black line representing Interstate 96. "According to eyewitness testimonies, the closest military blockade has been erected on the I-96 entrance into Raccoon City. Aerial reconnaissance indicates that most of the Uptown district remains free of any major traffic obstructions. If you take a right onto Ryland and then merge onto West Carroll you should be able to reach it the fastest. These vans are coated with armor plating for bullets, so I doubt any of those freaks would be able to get at you if they got close enough." 

Once again raising his trusty pointing stick, he pointed to another place on the outskirts of the Uptown district, "Along the way you might pass the Racccoon City Zoo. We have no clue if the military will be shooting at anything that comes within fifty feet of the barricades, so if anything goes wrong you should stop by the zoo. The place should have workable radio equipment you could probably use to contact them with. Let them know you're coming and tell them we desperately need help back here at the station."

Sgt. Foreman, Sgt. Carlsen, Marvin, and Mayor Warren appeared behind Lt. Monroe staring intently at the officers sitting before them, "Are we understood on this matter?"

Nods of affirmation came from all of the officers and they rose to their feet readying whatever weapons they held in hand ready to win an impending war against the undead.

Pumping his Benelli shotgun he then turned his attention to the two nameless officers who entered with him and the mayor, "Scott, Keller, get Strid up to the rooftop A.S.A.P. Kingsland should be returning at any minute now!"

"Yes sir!" both officers shouted in unison and then proceeded towards the entrance with Strid following closely behind.

Lt. Monroe then turned to Marvin, "Marvin, get Mayor Warren to the library at once. He needs to be evacuated right away too!"

"Sure thing, Hank! Come on Mayor, I'm sure your daughter wants to be near you again too," Marvin said motioning for the short man to follow him.

"Yeah, my dear sweet Beverly. If I don't make it out of this alive then I sure hope she does," the older man said looking down at the floor as he followed closely behind.

Jake still stood towards the back of the room near Officer Castor and was about to make his exit when a panicked officer nearly crashed through the doors and fell to his knees. The man was deathly pale and breathing heavily like he had just seen a ghost. His co-workers approached him and were about to help him back to his feet when he shoved them away.

"Lt. Monroe! Sgt. Foreman! There's more of those undead bastards coming our way!" the panicked officer shouted loud enough to be heard throughout the west wing.

"What? How many?" the lieutenant demanded.

The officer slowed himself and caught his breath before speaking, "Too many of them...More than a hundred!"

The lieutenant and the S.W.A.T. sergeant looked to each other with mouths agape in a horror everybody understood, "Oh my god..."

"Looks like we're about to get ready for Round 3," Jake grimly quipped unslinging his MP5.

Author's Note: I know this chapter is probably shorter compared to my other ones, but this is mainly just a filler chapter to explain what happened before the major invasion that occurs before the "Desperate Times" scenario in "Outbreak: File 2." 


	22. Interlude: David's Dilemma

Darkness Arises by E-Z B 

Interlude: David's Dilemma

The early evening hours had fallen upon Raccoon City and the gloomy weather present throughout the day made nightfall come much earlier than it should have for late September.

David McGraw strolled along the outer walls of the R.P.D. building holding his Colt M4A1 assault rifle in tired hands as he had been doing for the past five and a half hours after the army of zombies laid siege upon the building, along with the mutated crows and those Licker creatures. The sight of Lickers had been nothing new to him as he had spotted several the night before and both him and Donald had saved Jake from a Licker that was probably just inches away from decapitating the poor man. To his colleagues however, it was a completely new experience that had left many of them horrified beyond belief and still chatting about it amongst themselves.

What had gone down earlier was a bloody confrontation that had left five men dead and another seriously wounded. The R.P.D. had barely emerged victorious in the struggle and most of it was in part thanks to the civilians who had been fighting alongside them and together they were able to take down the legions of undead at a much faster pace. Still though, the failure to save six of their comrades from harm had weighed in heavily on the conscience of the surviving officers and the smell of death from the decaying zombies on the other side of their barricades did not help matters much either. They had no time to remove the corpses due to the lack of available manpower and he hoped he could at least put up with it for a few more hours before they would devise some kind of evacuation plan.

The S.W.A.T. officer breathed heavily beneath his balaclava and adjusted the stuffy helmet that matted down the short locks of his brown hair, making them itch almost as badly as the stubble appearing on his youthful face. He had worn the same full body armor uniform for nearly three days now without having the opportunity to change clothes and he crinkled his nose as he smelled the mixture of his own bodily odor combined with the dried blood and brain matter covering his uniform. He told himself over and over again that as soon as he made it out of Raccoon he would burn that uniform because he could always wash away most of the physical stains, but then there would be few that could never be washed away and would act as scars, painful reminders of what he had been forced to endure in this once great city.

For nearly three days now he had been forced to fight for his life against legions of the undead, zombified dogs and crows, Lickers, those giant bug-like creatures called Stingers, those five foot tall mutated frog-like monstrosities nicknamed Hunters, and then there were probably numerous other nightmarish creatures lurking in the shadows waiting to strike at any moment. Just thinking of these living monstrosities took him back to the night before where he witnessed many of his friends and co-workers fall before those murderous bastards.

A few days earlier it had been him along with his unit on Main St. called in to deal with rioters who were reportedly going as far as to eat their victims. Much like that fateful night, the air was calm, broken only by the occasional far off moan or caw of a crow and there was an eerie stillness floating about that deeply unsettled the officer. Things were way too calm, much like they had been before the massacre.

Names of the fallen ran through his mind like a more hideous, mocking version of the obituaries he read in the daily paper.

"Grant Bronsky, my best friend whom I left behind to die. Steven Porter, my friend, my mentor, my leader. Vince Prescott, a true hero in every sense of the word. Charles Grey, a man who dedicated his life to law enforcement and was just three weeks away from retirement, now he'll never get to enjoy it. Omar Goods, a young rookie who had a bright and promising future ahead of him. Dan Minton, a dedicated officer and family man, now his kids have no father to wake up to if they're even still alive that is. Rena Del Toro, a toughy lady who had to fight all her life to get where she needed to be. Hell, even that shady bastard Chuck Deagle didn't deserve to die like that." All of those names hit David like clenched fists and he felt almost as if their blood was on his hands. He had failed to protect those men and women back there and he so desperately wanted to protect whoever else he could. It was a burden he was willing to take upon himself to put his mind at ease and help prove that his comrades' deaths were not in vain.

Many of his colleagues still lived, among them Marvin, Ford, Elliot Edward, Carlsen, Murray, Dallas and Donald, most of whom were either present at a meeting that took place in the briefing room or wandering somewhere else around the station grounds. After what happened back at the barricades, he knew it would be asking for too much to be able to escape with all of the men he had just thought of and the numerous other nameless colleagues standing around, but there was still hope for him wanting to escape from this nightmare with at least a few of them still alive and well in the end and he would do everything in his power to see to it that would happen.

David thought to himself why he became a police officer in the first place three years ago. In a sense he came from a family of protectors. His grandfather had served in World War II and was one of the many young paratroopers to touch down on beaches of Normandy during Operation Overlord. He would then become a highway patrolman and later became sheriff of the county where he served with great dignity and prestige. David's father and two of his uncles would become second generation law enforcement officers and had served with great distinction in their respective precincts. Another uncle was a career military man who had served in the Persian Gulf War and was currently stationed in Germany. All of them were protectors. Yet another uncle was a medical doctor in Denver, he too was a protector, a protector of life. His oldest brother Cody was a forest ranger, he was a protector of nature and the wildlife within. His mother was a teacher, she was a protector of youth. His youngest brother Peter was a senior in high school and planned to enlist in the Air Force upon graduation, a blooming protector. Even though his sisters and other brother may not have held occupations involving the direct protection of others, they still were protectors in one way or another as was the same of all human beings.

To serve and protect was the reason David McGraw became a cop. By many peoples' standards he was everything a good cop should be: courageous, quick-witted, calm, aware and not afraid to risk his own bacon to save an innocent bystander or co-worker from danger. His sense of humor, blue collar work ethic and inherent drive to do what is right would have earned him the undying respect of many co-workers for years to come. He protected the innocent as a U.S. Marine and he still did it as a police officer and as long as this incident occurred he would continue to do what he had signed up to do, protect.

David walked past the main gate now slightly lowering his assault rifle as he spotted Rodney Schwartz sitting on a stool near the main gate with shotgun in hand and the main gate key hanging from around his neck like a deformed necklace. The man looked like he was struggling to stay awake and was about to fall off of his stool. The S.W.A.T. officer tapped him on the shoulder and looked down to offer him an encouraging smile and congratulated him for his duty even if he was simply trying to stay awake.

Officers positioned around the station were tense enough already from the zombie attacks and the long hours had drained everybody's physical and mental energies. The tension had to be eased every now and then before somebody could snap and start firing upon his own colleagues rather than the dangers lurking outside.

The young officer wandered through a smaller gate into a grass covered picnic area with small trees and shrubs where several other officers had gathered and chatted quietly trying to distract themselves from the horrors around them. A few of them were even smoking, something Captain Porter would have highly looked down upon if he were still alive. The captain had been a stern, but respected leader who only wanted the best for his men and wanted them in tip-top physical condition as well even going as far as to discourage them from drinking and smoking when they were off duty, principles followed closely by those who respected him the most.

Now the poor captain was dead, savagely torn apart by the living dead who had once been the ordinary citizens he had sworn to protect.

At the time David had refused to fire upon the infected townspeople believing them to still be the innocent people he had seen at the supermarket, shopping in the local mall, riding the bus to work in the morning, hanging out at the bars and clubs and so much more. He believed he couldn't bring himself to hurt those innocent people, but whatever these people had become they did not return his feelings. They had become something totally inhuman, things that lacked fear, remorse or compassion, evidenced by the gruesome way they had ripped the captain to shreds.

In the end there was no choice, it was kill or be killed.

He wandered further down until he found an empty picnic table and sat down on top with his feet on the bench. Placing his assault rifle on the table next to him he then loosened his Kevlar helmet and removed the balaclava underneath. It almost felt as if he had spent the past few hours underwater and was so hot he barely felt the biting autumn chill mixing with the perspiration running down his face. The S.W.A.T. officer sat with his head hung backwards and took in some deep breaths before he opened his eyes and saw a youthful face staring down upon him from a second floor window.

The young teen was Kenny Feng, a work experience student who attended Raccoon City Secondary School in the uptown district. At first he came across as kind of brash and cocky, but deep down he seemed like a genuinely good kid with a decent head on his shoulders who was a hard worker and cared about those close to him. David smiled to him and threw him an assuring thumbs up. The boy returned the gesture and then disappeared from the window.

David felt bad for the kid as he had been forced to endure much over the past two months.

Kenny was there on the night the S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team made its ill-fated flight to the Arklay Mts. area in search of missing hikers and members of a purported "cannibalistic cult" that was said to be behind a string of bizarre murders in the area.

According to his eyewitness account, he found the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team Captain Albert Wesker tinkering around inside the Bravo chopper and acting suspiciously asking if "he didn't see anything" when he was there. Apparently he tried to report the incident to the rest of the Alpha Team and Lt. Amber Bernstein, but they wouldn't listen and before then it was too late.

Not only that, but he was there on August 1st when that older woman came screaming into the station covered in blood, claiming a bunch of cannibalistic bums had torn her husband apart limb from limb. That was a gruesome sight indeed as David had been part of the patrol unit sent down to search the general vicinity of Robson and Denman where the murder had occurred and was one of the first to discover the old man's corpse. Later on in the day, he and his girlfriend were attacked at their school by some "rotting Dobermans" and barely escaped with their lives.

The biggest bitch of all was when his pleas for an investigation fell on the deaf ears of that fat pig of a police chief Brian Irons, who refused to pursue the case further because he didn't want to "alarm the public" with a full scale investigation. Hearing of the youth's complaining angered David too as it only showed the chief's visible incompetence and lacking sense of duty to the general public.

Fate was not very kind to the teenager as more mysterious attacks occurred involving him, including an attack by some ravenous crows outside his school (concluding with another fruitless visit to the chief's office) and a mysterious incident that took place in an uptown cafe. Kenny had been hanging out with his friends Justin Thomas and Phil Barrett when he reported seeing some creepy guy in a black suit staring oddly at them. He also remarked that the man carried a briefcase with the Umbrella, Inc. logo on it. The man seemingly had some kind of weird interest in his friend Phil, which weirded them out and caused them to leave, only to be chased and attacked by the man and his associate, ending with Phil Barett's disappearance.

David was there for Kenny along with Amber, Rita Wilcox and his buddy Kevin Ryman the next day when the poor teen was barely keeping himself together. Together with his three comrades, they vowed that they would get his friend back even if they had to patrol the entire city - with or without Irons' permission.

It brought some relief to see that the boy was trying to keep himself together, especially after how it sounded like him and his friend Cranky had gone through a lot of hell trying to escape the city, only to be turned back at a military erected barricade. The young S.W.A.T. officer had been there for both of them when they returned from their failed venture, only to listen in disbelief at the news that the entire city had been placed under quarantine.

His thoughts then returned to the three other officers just mentioned. Rita was spending most of her time with the other uniformed officers going over possible escape plans. She still beat herself up mentally over her own stupidity for not believing the S.T.A.R.S. operatives. Amber had been spotted just a few minutes ago stepping back inside for something unknown and was expected back in a few minutes. Kevin on the other hand was nowhere to be found.

The last time David spoke to his friend was a few nights ago. Kevin was bummed out after being rejected to join S.T.A.R.S. for the second time and asked if he wanted to join him for a few beers, but David had been pulling double overtime that night and was unable too. That was the last time he saw his friend. He hoped that Kevin was alive wherever he was. A brave, resourceful officer, he knew his friend would stand a good chance against these rotting freaks and prayed that he would escape somehow.

"Man, I want this shit to end." David thought solemnly as he glanced around at his gloomy surroundings. Uniformed officers and S.W.A.T. personnel paced back and forth both within and outside the station walls, keeping a vigilant watch on the deathly silent streets outside. He was thankful the walls blocked his view of what surrounded them on the outside, that way he wouldn't have to view all the mayhem and destruction that would stand before him.

Guard duty sucked the life out of him and his fellow troopers and things had been quiet for the past few hours, but there was an itchy feeling inside that the peace wasn't going to last. He was hoping the higher-ups inside would get their plan formulated fast so he could get out of there while his colleagues were still alive.

"You look like you're about to fall asleep," a mature, yet friendly voice spoke.

The voice belonged to another close friend of his from the force, Ben Dallas. Ever since he had made his way back to the station the night before after that chaotic ride with Dario, Donald and Denise, he and the others had tried their best to be there for David after the horrors he had been forced to endure.

With Captain Porter dead, Sgt. Foreman was the highest-ranked S.W.A.T. officer left alive and was placed in command of the units' remnants. Presently he attended the station briefing and had left training officer Lyndon Murray in charge, who in turn was assisted by David, Ben and Mitchell Cannon. The latter of the two often strolled around to the other officers standing guard and would crack jokes and talk sports, doing whatever they could to keep the mood light. David tried to remain positive as best he could, but then again those guys hadn't been through as much as he had after the attack that took place earlier.

Ben stood around the same height as his friend and removed his helmet to reveal the short black buzzcut he wore underneath, matching the darkness of his eyes which held a serious stare that deceived his personable, relaxed approach to life. He was two years older than David and had two years plus experience on him. Ben, Grant and him were the so-called "bad boys" of the S.W.A.T. team known for their legendary off-duty exploits much to the chagrin of their serious-minded commander. The two of them held a friendly rivalry as well on who was the better marksman of the two, but hands down David triumphed nearly every time they had a shooting contest. The only other members of the R.P.D. who came close to or either managed to pull off victories over the exceptional shooter were Kevin Ryman, Amber Bernstein and S.T.A.R.S. marksman Chris Redfield.

"Trying not to," David said, forcing a tired smile.

Ben chuckled slightly, "My ass. So how are you holding up right now, bro'?"

Officer Dallas patted his friend heavily on the shoulder with his gloved hand and took a seat on the picnic table next to his friend and held his helmet beneath one arm. Unlike David who carried a Colt M4A1 assault rifle, Ben carried an H&K MP5 submachine gun that was smaller and reloaded faster than the rifle. Like his friend, he too carried an H&K VP-70 sidearm, but kept a Magnum Revolver concealed in his shin holster like most of the other S.W.A.T. officers had been developing a habit for lately with all of the random attacks around town.

"Tired and wanting to get the hell out of this place as soon as possible," came David's reply.

"Heh, I hear you on that." Ben said studying his weapon closely, "Right now I'd rather be piss ass drunk down at J's Bar trying to get some with that hot assed Cindy chick there. Better that than being at work all night fighting for your very survival against God knows what."

"Oh my god, you'd seriously even think of sleeping with that Cindy Lennox skank? I can't believe you Ben Dallas!" a light, female voice called out from behind the two S.W.A.T. officers.

Standing behind the pair with hands on her shapely hips and narrowing her green eyes at them was the young Lt. Amber Bernstein. She was an attractive woman of twenty-four years and probably would have made it as a model had she not chosen a career in law enforcement. Her long strawberry-blonde curls hung almost to the middle of her back and were slightly matted from bodily perspiration. In addition to her uniform, she wore an R.P.D. windbreaker similar to what Lt. Monroe wore and held the same sidearm as both officers in hand.

"Dude, you are so busted," David loudly whispered with playful punch to his friend's shoulder. "I bet she's gonna handcuff you to the flagpole now and poke you in the rear a million times over with her tazer. Either that or like last year's Christmas party when you got really drunk and Keating slipped those laxatives into your drink. You nearly killed three guys trying to make a bee-line for the bathrooms, only to find we were out of toilet paper." the S.W.A.T. officer laughed slapping his friend on the back even harder.

"You best shut your mouth McGraw, or else I'm going to see to it that you become Arklay County Maximum Security's latest prison bitch when we get out of here," Dallas retorted with a playful slap upside David's head.

"Mind if I join you boys, just as long as you don't mention Super Bitch's first name again?" Amber glared now crossing her arms across her chest.

"No, go right ahead," David said patting the wooden surface next to him as he scooted over to make room for his latest guest.

Amber was one of David's closest friends from the force and she was one of the first officers he befriended when he first joined up. He greatly admired the woman for her dedication and could tell she still believed in making a difference and cleaning up crime.

He also felt her pain when her boyfriend S.T.A.R.S. vehicle specialist Joseph Frost was killed back at the Spencer Estate incident a few months back. By the survivors' accounts, he was torn apart by a pack of rabid dogs that later attacked them and chased them to the mansion, where they endured their unbelievable journey. The woman was practically torn apart by the loss of her beloved and David felt her grief as Joseph had been a close friend of his too. Kevin had told him everything from the day when he and Kenny stopped by J's Bar and found her nearly passed out drunk and had to give her a ride back home. Much to her credit though, Amber was still fighting valiantly to maintain her grip on reality and he tried his best to be there for her, much like they had been there for him when his friend Arden Lowery was killed in that bank robbery two years back and was so traumatized he nearly quit the force.

"Seriously, what do you have against that girl?" Ben asked dumbfoundedly, "I like her. She's very nice and very friendly. The woman always goes out of her way to see to it that us boys in blue always have a good time whenever we are over."

"She's friendly to you all right," Amber said with a half-smirk, "That's because you have a certain tool "down there." She'll be as friendly as you want her to be then."

"Heh, you're just jealous," Ben shot back with a suppressed chuckle.

"As if," Amber said before taking a swig of some freshly-brewed coffee, "What makes you think I could ever be jealous of a fake Barbie wannabe like that? I bet if I screwed as many men as she did, I'd probably have S.T.D.'s fighting to establish dominance. If that's what you want, then be my guess, champ!" she uttered the nickname with a sarcastic laugh lightly slapping her colleague.

"Here we go again," David chuckled rolling his eyes. He had heard of the legendary tale from Amber herself about how she had convinced Joseph, Edward Dewey and Forest Speyer to come on patrol with her and had the three of them intentionally ram their patrol car into the back of Cindy's prized Corvette, hard enough to send it into the nearby "No Parking" zone, to which the popular waitress arrived just in time to find Amber slapping a parking ticket on her windscreen.

The thought of that tale brought a slight laughter to the S.W.A.T. trooper, but yet a sudden sadness at the same time as he remembered his fallen friends from S.T.A.R.S.

Joseph, Edward, and Forest were all killed in the incident through various hideous means according to the survivors: the first two torn apart by rabid dogs, the second eventually dying after a few rounds from Bravo rookie Rebecca Chambers, and the last man pecked to death by crows, only to be gunned down by Chris Redfield. The four aforementioned men had all been close friends of his and were big drinking buddies who were notorious amongst the bar and nightclub scene every weekend. They had also helped him in many ways with personal and professional aspects of his life, whether it be receiving auto repair tips for his '96 Ford Explorer from Joseph, learning the basics of demolitions from Forest, being shown what makes a helicopter tick by Edward, or just enjoying an old-fashioned shooting competition with Chris.

Other people had fallen that night as well: Kenneth J. Sullivan, the Bravo field scout and a gifted chemist as well who left behind a son, Richard Aiken, the friendly and talented communications specialist who was always stopped to chat sports with him, Kevin Dooley, a former stunt pilot whom he had never really gotten to know, and Enrico Marini, a respected veteran who had already received several battle scars from previous skirmishes and always wore them with a sense of pride, a testament of his dedication to serving justice.

Captain Albert Wesker of Alpha Team had also perished on that night, according to rumors skewered by an eight foot tall behemoth with a claw for a hand. To tell the truth, David could have cared less whether he lived or died. Something was not right about that man at all and he always felt uneasy in his presence much like all the other non-S.T.A.R.S. members around the station had.

He could remember their return from the woods like it was yesterday.

Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Barry Burton, Rebecca Chambers and Brad Vickers returned to the station with harrowing accounts of zombies, mutated ape-like lizards, spiders the size of a Volkswagen, a gigantic shark that had torn Aiken to shreds, an eight foot tall humanoid bioweapon codenamed "Tyrant," and that the international pharmaceuticals conglomerate Umbrella, Inc. was behind everything and Captain Wesker had been in one the whole deal even going as far as to murder Marini when he learned the truth.

Naturally these outlandish, unrealistic tales were met with skepticism by the rest of the R.P.D. and thanks in part to the ignorance of Chief Irons, the surviving S.T.A.R.S. members were made into pariahs within the station walls and numerous kinds of rumors floated throughout the air such as they probably experienced post-traumatic stress disorder when a teammate was accidentally killed, or they were high on the blue herbs growing within the Arklay Mts. area, even callous enough to accuse them of snapping and murdering their teammates.

Excluding Captain Wesker, David had been particularly close to most of the S.T.A.R.S. members and refused to believe such allegations, but still found those kinds of stories hard to swallow at the time. Chris was an ex-Air Force member who had been kicked out for insubordination when he went back to rescue a teammate he was ordered to abandon. Despite being the child of a notorious cat burglar, Jill was an intelligent soldier who valued the lives of her teammates and treated them like her second family. Barry Burton was a dedicated family man with two small daughters and even liked David as if he were his own son. He didn't know Rebecca Chambers very well due to her inexperience, but from brief meetings he could tell that she seemed like an ambitious young rookie who was determined to please those around her, murdering the rest of her team obviously wouldn't fall under that category. Finally, there was Brad Vickers. Known as Chickenheart around the station, his cowardice is the stuff of legends, but all around he seemed like a good guy who wouldn't even be able to kill a house plant if he tried. None of those people seemed like the type who would murder their own in cold blood, the very people they had entrusted their own lives to.

"So how is everybody doing over here?" a new voice boomed, shaking the officers out of their little conversation.

"As all right as we can be in this case I guess, Murray." Ben replied with a half-grin to the new face.

Standing before them was the authoritative figure of Lyndon Murray, who had now become Sgt. Foreman's right-hand man with the latter's abrupt ascension in the ranks following the captain's death. In Officer McGraw's humble opinion, he seemed like the perfect man for the job with his dedication to his work and his tireless, and very much aggressive, pursuit of justice. Clasped firmly in his gloved hands was an M4A1 of the same brand David used. He too had shed his Kevlar helmet and his normally nicely combed dark brown hair was now a tangled mess from the sweat atop his head. His pale appearance showed that he had neither slept nor ate well in several days. Mitchell Cannon stood by his side still wearing his Kevlar helmet and gripped his MP5 tightly, looking around every few seconds for possible threats. The incidents of earlier in the day still had him spooked and he wanted to be ready for any new possible attacks.

"So how's Fortay doing?" David asked joining the conversation.

Lyndon's face hardened upon the mention of the man's name and took a couple breaths before speaking, "Last I heard he was delirious and babbling incoherently. His temperature was deadly low and he's sweating nonstop with brief periods of convulsion. We have him shacked up in the evidence room still. Doc Peltz is trying everything he can for the poor guy, but at the same time it's him and six other people. The only help he has left is from one of Raccoon General's last remaining nurses and Officer Sears. I don't even know what's going to happen to him." The training officer looked away and sniffed heavily. Emery Fortay was an old friend of his and both of their families camped together frequently in the Arklay Mts. before the attacks forced them to abandon their ritual.

"Hey Amber," another voice joined the fray. It was that of Officer Renee Montoya and she was joined by a young, babyfaced Asian-American rookie named Parker Lee. The two of them carried Mossburg twelve-gauge shotguns in one hand and hot cocoa in the other.

"Oh hey there Renee. How are you doing?" Amber asked cracking a smile towards her friend.

"All right I guess. Wishing I could go home and have a nice warm meal, a nice warm shower and crawl into an even warmer bed," the woman sighed standing next to Amber and taking a long swig.

"You'd better shut up about that or else you're going to make me even hungrier than I already am," Amber rolled her eyes at the comment.

"We all wish for that," Ben grumbled scratching his itchy head and then pulling out a water bottle to take a long chug.

David smiled towards the two new acquisitions. Renee had joined the force not long after him and the two even briefly dated, but decided it was better they just remain friends. Although shy at first, once you get to know her she can become your most trusted and loyal friend in the world. He felt bad for the woman because despite being a patrol officer, she had little experience in actual combat and seemed to carry the mindset of a newbie into battle.

Then there was Parker Lee. The kid was a rookie fresh out of the academy and was right away thrust into the mouth of madness. Going through long exhausting shifts was one thing for every officer, but for a freaking child by police standards, just reasserted the fact that Irons was off his oversized rocker and probably tumbled halfway down the stairs by then. Probably his only saving grace was the fact that his trusted training officer was still alive and able to provide him with some sense of comfort in the mess.

"What about our escape plans? Are they gonna be ready anytime soon?" Ben asked Officer Murray, his questioning stare joined by those of the others present.

"I overheard from some officers on the inside. Apparently they're going to try and airlift us over to the airport and then try to fly us out from there. If that doesn't go through, then they might possibly send us underground or through the streets by van."

"Dear lord..." several officers groaned in unison. The last thing they wanted to do was trudge through the murky sewers where there were possibly more terrors awaiting them in the darkness.

The backup plans did not sit well with David either and he suddenly found himself praying to any higher power out there that he would not have to endure either one. Although not a very religious person, he did not deny the possible existence of a God and there were several instances where he believed himself to be close to death, only to be saved by some unseen force. Either he was just one lucky son of a bitch or fate had plans for him elsewhere.

"Hey! We've got something - or someone coming towards us!" Raymond Green called out from the barricades.

"Oh shit! Assume your positions people!" Lyndon ordered fumbling to get his helmet back on and racing towards a perch that had been set up for him against the wall.

A lone figure cloaked in shadow half-ran, half-stumbled towards the barricade clutching its side. They could only make out that the person was of medium height, slightly overweight and male judging by its short hair and broad shoulders. The mystery man stumbled towards the precinct nearly falling flat on his face as he approached where several bodies lay strewn on the ground.

"One of them?" an officer next to Lyndon asked cocking his assault rifle.

"Hold on," Lyndon replied squinting into the darkness. "Just a little closer," he said waiting for the individual to step under the glow of a streetlight. Within a few seconds the man stumbled near and it was then that Officer Lyndon Murray felt his heart skip a beat.

The man's damp sandy blonde colored hair was matted to his skull his additional bulk was clearly visible now. He wore the tattered remnants of a police uniform soaked from head-to-toe in blood. Pale gray eyes stared upon the barricade and his skin was rapidly losing its color. A Remington shotgun fell from the man's back and clattered loudly to the pavement. Shambling closer to the officers, it was now shown that he was holding a bleeding side and had more bite marks covering his neck and arms. He buckled forward and vomited an acidic substance onto a corpse below him.

"Elran!" Lyndon shouted out loud, "Hugo Elran!"

Officer Hugo Elran of the R.P.D.'s Boys' Crimes Department stumbled drunkenly towards his colleagues having barely survived the Main St. barricade. He was beyond salvation and fighting in vain to hold off the virus spreading throughout his system. "H...elp...m...eeeee..." he muttered before he convulsed again and stopped dead in his tracks. A couple tense moments later he looked up through glossed over eyes matching his newly pale skin and let out a feral roar before lunging forward with arms outstretched.

"Fire!" Lyndon shouted and on cue the officers at the makeshift fencing opened fire upon the newly-turned officer, filling him with several bullets to the torso before he was dropped for good by a lethal headshot.

Before Hugo Elran even hit the ground, there were three more people in street clothes limping around the corner. More seemed to be coming every second and of all shapes and sizes, much like it had been the night before.

David McGraw felt his chest tighten and his heart quicken its pace as he looked down upon the grunting dead approaching them. This was deja vu for him and his mind began racing as he recalled what happen to most of his teammates, they were killed savagely. "Zombies! More of them!" he whispered to himself as the images of last night came to mind.

Lyndon Murray stood frozen in his tracks as more and more zombies converged upon the station entering from the alleys and side streets ready to kill again. He had to do something fast.

"Murray!"

The S.W.A.T. officer looked down to see Quincy Beck, a look of indescribable horror chiseled into his features.

"Beck, tell the others there's more of these freaks coming! The rest of you, fire at will! Everything you got!" Lyndon shouted returning his attention to the other officers.

The frightened officers needed no further prompting and sent a wave of hot lead ripping through the rotting residents knocking many of them backwards. Only few had been killed with perfectly aimed headshots and even more marched behind them, tripping over the piles of dead bodies trying to reach the officers.

Cutsforth fired his grenade launcher indiscriminately into the crowd while two other officers began chucking fragmentation grenades wildly into the crowd, which had now swelled to more than a hundred zombies and was still growing. Snipers continued dropping the creatures with instant headshots, but they were running low on ammo at a rapid fire pace.

David fired randomly into the crowd, dropping each target with perfect headshots. He had five extra clips in reserve and would shoot down as many as he could before they could come closer and do any more damage. Ben stood next to him firing everything he had, although not as clean as his teammate. Parker Lee had joined in on the conflict and fired upon the livind dead, but his inexperience showed through as he fired wildly upon the creatures and went more for body shots than he did the lethal cranium shots, in dire need of more time down at the firing range. Mitchell Cannon fired like a man possessed next to his superior and was rewarded with more bloody headshots. Amber and Renee stood side-by-side firing more potshots into the approaching crowd and took down a few others, but lacked the ammunition to take down all of them.

The army of walking dead drew nearer and nearer to the barricades. Shot up corpses piled up in front of the barricades did not stop them and they began crawling on their hands and knees across the lumps of rotting flesh, using the corpses of their fellow dead as padding to get them over the strands of razor wire and other fortifications. What had once been the decent, hardworking citizens of Raccoon City reached the hasty fencing erected to keep them at bay.

"Oh God," David thought to himself as he looked down upon the zombies pressing hard against the fencing, which had already been weakened in one section earlier in the day when Emery Fortay had nearly fallen into the sea of dead below. "Those things are going to overrun us and there's too many of them for us to stop in one sitting!"

He looked over to Ben, who had run dry on his latest clip and frantically fumbled to get a new clip in. The wild-eyed look of horror in his brown eyes suggested that he shared David's thoughts and didn't know whether he should retreat inside the station or stay and obey Lyndon Murray's commands. The S.W.A.T. officer could feel his friend's eyes upon him and ducked down behind what little cover he had left behind the stone wall. "David, what are we going to do? There's too many of those damned things out there and we don't have the ammo to take them all down like we did last time!"

McGraw slouched down next to his friend and looked him hard in the eyes. "I have no freaking clue man, but we might have to retreat. Our odds might not be much better then, but they're just as worse out here!"

Ben nodded quickly at him and both officers looked over to see Lyndon screaming droned out commands at the officers below in between bursts from his own rifle. The zombies were throwing themselves against the splintering wood and many officers could only stare in horror as the realization finally hit them that they were about to be overrun.

"Keep firing everything you've got!" Lyndon roared as he inserted a new clip into his rifle and was already pulling the trigger as the bolt was pulled back.

David and Ben continued firing into the crowd as the fence began cracking in spots. One of their main objectives now was to provide cover fire for Cutsforth, who was running dangerously low on his explosive rounds as he fired everything he had into the crowd. After his explosive rounds had depleted he would only be down to a case of napalm and acid rounds each, which he doubted would have much effect on the already dead townspeople. The men both fired into the crowd until David was stopped by two familiar faces he saw in the sea of inhumanity now walking among their enemies.

Staggering towards them clad in a now blood-drenched yellow vest was none other than the missing S.T.A.R.S. member Brad Vickers. A scaredy cat all his life, the former pilot and computer expert now moved towards bullets threatening to embed themselves in his skull at any moment with no fear at all, nor any other human emotion for the matter. The next face though forced David McGraw to stop everything and stare with a look of pure horror beneath his balaclava.

A man clad in the tattered and bloodied remnants of an R.P.D. S.W.A.T. uniform stood tall among the dead. A large chunk had been torn from his shoulder and his throat torn out with it. The man's helmet had been knocked off as well, revealing his true identity.

"Grant!" David shouted aloud in fright and raised his rifle, only to stop himself.

Grant Bronsky now traveled amongst the very dead he had died fighting just one night before. Sure he was a zombie now, but David could not bring himself to shoot his own friend down zombie or not. This man had been his friend for most of his life and to kill him would almost be like killing a vital part of himself. He couldn't do it.

"No, I can't do it!" David rasped fighting back tears, "I can't kill you buddy! I just can't!"

A gunshot louder than any other rang out and a second later Grant Bronsky crumpled to the ground. A hole had been blown straight between his eyes and he never rose again.

David looked over to find Ben lowering his rifle, having fired the very round that ended Grant Bronsky's unlife. His friend looked back to him unsure of how he would react, but at the same time stood defiantly by his decision. "I had to do it, Dave. He was one of them, I did it more for him than I did for you or me. He would probably have rather had that then be forced to wander the earth as a soulless monster."

Ben was right. To become a mindless zombie rather than just die and stay dead was probably a fate worse than death itself. David perfectly understood and nodded back to his teammate, "Yeah, you're right. Grant would have wanted it that way, I don't blame you. You did him a favor and I'm sure he'd forgive you."

In one full force the zombies pressed against the fence at the same time and with a resounding crack the fence was finally breached and zombies spilled through like water through a broken dam. Right away Cutsforth was knocked from his perch and fell into the mass of dead below. Several other officers positioned between the fence and the stone wall only managed to drop a few zombies struggling back to their feet before the rest of the fencing collapsed and they too were overwhelmed by the sheer numbers game.

Cutsforth, Green, Montabello and numerous other officers had fallen in less than a minute. David and the others could only watch in a silent, powerless horror as their colleagues were torn to shreds by the ravenous fiends and some had to back off so they wouldn't have to view such a horrendous sight. Surely enough the zombies soon lost interest in their newly-acquired morsels and picked up the scent of fresh meat behind the stone walls and they began pressing themselves against the courtyard's iron gate.

"Aw fuck, they've breached the fencing! Hold the fort now! Guard the doors too!" Lyndon shouted over the torrent of agonizing moans.

David continued firing into the zombies below, some of whom would actually look up to him with their sunken dead eyes and reach out towards him as he dropped them with rounds to the face.

Ben appeared next to him dropping three zombies with shots to their peeling craniums, "Forget about them, we have to pull back!" he shouted ejecting another spent clip and climbing down from the platform they stood on. The zombies had them overwhelmed and were pressing against the gates with all their strength, threatening to break through at any minute. He knew he would probably get a good verbal thrashing from Murray for it, but he didn't have much other choice.

"Where are you going? You can't just leave me here alone with these freaks!" Parker cried as he fired round after round into the crowd below. For the greenhorn rookie this was a nightmare come true. One where the dead had risen and reached towards him with ashen, peeling hands and glossy white eyes barely held in their fraying sockets and caved in emaciated faces.

"Don't worry, you're coming with us!" David said grabbing the man by the back of his vest and pulling him down with him. The two were standing on the cobblestoned patio where more officers had seen that they were fighting an uphill battle and began inching backward towards the station entrance. They all formed a protective circle around the front entrance and were ready to lay down cover fire when needed.

David stood tensely between Ben and Parker and were later joined by Mitch, Amber and Renee along with three other officers. His training had always taught him to never lose his cool in the face of danger, but that usually meant when you were dealing with a living, breathing human being who pulled either a gun or knife on you. Up until a few days ago being besieged by hordes of the living dead was something entirely new, but over time he had begun to adapt. Additional comfort came from the people who surrounded him and he had confidence in their abilities. If he couldn't save everybody else, he could at least save them.

The other officers present still stood on their perches along the stone wall and in front of the gate firing wildly into the zombies below, who still clawed away at the iron gate and ignored the rounds being fired upon them.

"Go to Hell you rotting fucks!" Lyndon shouted as he continued firing into the zombies below until he ran out of rifle ammo and was now down to using his H&K VP-70 sidearm. Other officers continued laying down cover fire until they were running dangerously low on ammo.

A loud metallic groan came from the gates and Rodney Schwartz backed up to see the padlock was close to snapping. "Shit! Shit! Shit! The lock's going to break Lyndon! We have to get inside!"

Too late.

The padlock was snapped and the zombies came pouring through the newly opened gate much like they had when the fencing fell that separated them from the front gates. Schwartz was overwhelmed before he could even squeeze off a shot and his Remington flew out of his hand, skidding across the pavement before it landed at the feet of Amber.

Lyndon Murray still fought valiantly despite the zombies surrounding him from below. The veteran officer knew his time was probably coming, but he wasn't going down without a fight and he fired every round he had until he was down to his last and used it to drop a zombified prostitute. He tossed the now empty gun below and struck another in the temple, but did not kill it. Other zombies had now grabbed onto the scaffolding he stood atop and rocked it violently. All he carried now was his nightstick and he withdrew it readying himself for a fight. Before he fell he wanted to see his teammates one last time and looked towards the entrance where David, Ben, Mitch and several other officers shouted incomprehensible jibberish at him. The veteran officer gave them one final nod before the scaffold snapped beneath him.

"Lyndon!" Mitchell Cannon shouted firing his MP5 at the zombies who immediately swallowed up the training officer as he tried fighting them off with his nightstick. Everybody else could only look on in horror as another one of their own fell before the dead and he would not be the last.

All David heard was screaming. It took him a moment to realize they were coming from the other officers, screams of pain and agony. The crack of gunfire from the police grew softer as the wails of his dying teammates grew louder. The S.W.A.T. officer finally surveyed his surroundings more clearly to see that Ben and the others were practically pressed against the front doors watching in horror and then back to the other officers up front, who grappled feebly with the undead before they were overpowered and had their necks bitten into. The cops shrieked in pain as the cannibals piled on top of them and struggled weakly before the decaying monsters sunk their teeth into their limbs and torsos.

"Get these people inside!" a voice screamed inside his head as he looked on helplessly at his fellow officers being torn apart and then back to his surviving colleagues who fired away at the creatures hoping to prevent any further advances. His mind was nearly frozen at the sight of people dying around him, but his heart won out determined to get the others to safety.

"Get inside! Fucking get inside now!" David bellowed to the others backing up. He took a moment and fired a shot through the head of a one-armed woman standing mindlessly off to the side. Bracing himself for another powerful burst he opened fire and dropped five additional zombies that had turned their attention to the nine officers gathered around the double doors. Their corpses hit the patio with loud thuds and the blood pooled beneath their heads, none of them rising again.

"Ben, get that door open now!" the S.W.A.T. officer shouted to his friend and then turned to Mitch and Parker, "Mitch, Parker, lay down some fucking cover fire goddammit!" The two officers did as told and took positions at the front of the group taking down several zombies at a time. Ben meanwhile through the doors open and took a protective post near the right side, "Get in now!" he shouted echoing David's words from moments before.

Amber and Renee were the first two through the doors followed closely by the three other officers. Parker was the first S.W.A.T. member through the door having exhausted all of his shotgun ammo, Mitch backing himself into the station firing an endless volley into the crowd. David himself was about to enter when he spotted another officer emerge from the madness attempting to escape.

He was about to extend his hand to the stumbling officer when he noticed a gaping wound on the man's upper arm just beneath his shoulder. The man had been bitten, meaning he too was infected with whatever those townspeople had and was trying to make his way into the station where he would be a danger to everybody else present. Still David felt some odd responsibility towards the man as he was a fellow officer.

"Help me!" the young man cried out as he struggled towards David. Unknown to him, one of the zombies had followed him as well.

"Look out!" David cried raising his rifle, but he was too late. The zombie grabbed the cop from behind and took a fatal bite out of his neck. A blank, unfeeling look crossed his features as he fell to the cold patio.

"David, forget about him! He's finished, there's nothing you can do for him!" Ben shouted to his friend grabbing him by the shoulder and dragging him back towards the main entrance. "Just worry about keeping yourself alive now!"

The concept of operational losses was nothing to David McGraw. Every man or woman who fell in the line of duty was not just some serial number to be scratched out when he or she died. These were people with families and friends, hopes and dreams, futures and destinies that would never be met. What Ben said made sense though, right now he had to focus on keeping himself alive and could avenge his comrades later. He would have to remain alive if he wanted to accomplish that.

David reluctantly followed his friend into the station, but stopped briefly as the sound of helicopter blades came from above. He looked up to see the last remaining R.P.D. helicopter flying off into the night. Were they being abandoned? He was about to call out for help, but the zombies were fast approaching and he probably wouldn't be heard above their moans anyway. Sighing in defeat, he made his retreat into the station.

Author's Note: This is my special interlude that explains what happened outside while the R.P.D. meeting was going on. The next chapter though will be back to Jake's perspective and partially based around an actual in-game scenario from "Outbreak: File 2." As stated before, Kenny Feng is the propertyof noctorro and Amber Bernstein is the property of Hyperactive Hamster of Doom.READ AND REVIEW PLEASE! \m/


	23. Chapter 18: Desperate Times

Darkness Arises by E-Z B

Chapter 18: Desperate Times

The desperate survivors piled through the opened double doors practically falling on top of each other as they sought shelter from their pursuers outside. The army of undead outside was mammoth in proportions and would overrun the station at any minute now.

Jake followed Lt. Monroe, Sgt. Foreman, Beck, Castor and a few others into the main hall from the waiting room just as the last survivor entered and slammed the door behind them. Among the group he spotted David, Ben, Amber Bernstein, another female officer named Montoya and five additional officers. All of them were visibly out of breath and looked around in wild-eyed frenzy.

"Get some fucking chains now! We have to shackle those doors!" David shouted to everybody present. By now officers and armed civilians emerged from the library and second floor offices wanting to know what was going on.

"McGraw, Dallas how many of those things are out there to be exact and what happened to everybody else?" Lt. Monroe asked approaching the two men. The man had to mentally steel himself as he knew deep down that something bad probably happened to them.

"They're all dead sir. Those bastards overran us," Ben reported staring down at the floor and then back to his surviving colleagues.

Everybody jumped as the double doors rattled and the moans of the dead rang out. Hungry zombies pressed against the windows clawing away furiously at the bullet-proofed surface when they spotted the living humans inside.

"Shit!" Monroe cursed keeping his shotgun trained on the windows. Other officers did the same expecting the zombies to somehow burst through like they had done the iron gates out front.

"Get those shackles now!" David shouted again nearly backing into the fountain with his assault rifle raised. Two of the unknown uniformed officers who had entered with David rushed past Jake's group seeking out whatever they could use to barricade the front doors.

"Damn," Jake said quietly as he backed himself near the fountain where David stood, now joined by Ben and the two other unknown S.W.A.T. officers who had entered with them. Things were going from bad to worse with every passing second and right now the undead were about to overtake the police station. He had to find some way out fast before he could fall along with the police. He knew this would hamper his efforts at finding Birkin, but he knew if Sebastian were kept alive his chances would be greater no matter what the external circumstances were.

"Mind telling us where that helicopter is taking off to?" David asked staring in Monroe's direction.

"Please tell us we're not being abandoned!" the third S.W.A.T. officer named Lee cut in, his tone full of fright.

"Our primary escape plan was being enacted when those monsters decided to show up!" Lt. Monroe shouted over the moans of the undead outside. As he spoke, the two officers returned and began wrapping the chains around the doors and applying one of several padlocks. "Our primary plan was to airlift survivors to the city airport and then make several trips back and forth, but now it looks like we might have to enact our secondary escape plans."

"Which are?" Officer Montoya cut in.

Lt. Monroe motioned for Jake and the officers to follow him over to the reception desk. Once there he pulled out a map given to him by Sgt. Branagh and then proceeded to explain to them their plan for leading the civilians through the sewers in groups of six to eight with an armed officer for every group, which met with similar criticism from the officers. He then explained the plan meant to coincide with it where a group of armed survivors would ride in a police van and attempt to reach the barricades at the city limits.

"Are you crazy?" David suddenly blurted out, "With all due respect Lt. Monroe, but do you not remember those citizens who tried to escape through the kennel never came back? How can we be certain the sewers are even safe from all this madness? And to drive through the streets trying to reach the barricades? Do you not remember what Kenny told us when him and his friend tried to leave the city? The military shot a girl dead for scaling the barricades! How can we be certain they won't try to shoot us dead where we stand?" The other officers present nodded their heads in unison and began voicing their own concerns.

The police lieutenant stood firmly by his decision though and would not cave to pressure. "We really have no other choice. With the helicopter taking off there's a heavy chance they won't be able to return. I'm not going to leave these civilians here alone to fend for themselves. We have to help them escape somehow no matter what the circumstances are. It's a risk I'm willing to take and if you don't like it, then I welcome you to find your own way out of here."

Everybody else groaned in defeat. 

Jake stood back silently unwilling to take part in their escape plans. He had his own agenda in mind and could only think about how he would make his own escape and hopefully find the Umbrella chemical plant where Sherry said her parents were working at. She seemed too naive to be aware of her parents' true activities, so he doubted she would lie to him.

More gunfire rang out and everybody found themselves raising their weapons ready to fight. Something was different though, this gunfire came from within the station, more specifically the east wing.

"What the hell? That gunfire came from the cafeteria!" Sgt. Foreman shouted.

"The injured survivors!" Lt. Bernstein added nearly dropping her shotgun.

"Come on! We have to save them!" Foreman ordered charging towards the east wing entrance. He was followed closely by Lt. Monroe, Lt. Bernstein, David and a few other officers. Jake decided to follow them and see what was going on, not out of genuine concern for the officers' safety, but rather because he knew he would need to keep most of them alive in order to perform his own escape attempt. He raced through the single door into the east wing hallway where he first spotted Sherry Birkin and found the others congregating around a set of double doors drenched in blood from the inside.

"Oh no! Could we be too late?" Monroe called out looking uneasily at the blood covering the windows from inside. The sounds of gunfire, inhuman shrieks and ordinary human beings dying could be heard from beyond.

"Well we'd better find out!" Foreman grunted kicking the doors open with a mighty heave. As soon as the doors flew open he almost wished he had not done that.

Lt. Bernstein screamed in horror and nearly fainted. Officer Montoya sobbed bitterly and buried her face into David's chest. David, Monroe, Foreman and the eight other male officers present even found themselves displaying looks of pure anguish and crying out in horror as they witnessed the sights before them. Even Jake Cavanaugh, who had spent the past two and a half days fighting the ranks of the living dead and had become accustomed to much bloodshed throughout the past few years of his life, found himself visibly struck by what laid before him and could only manage a ragged gasp.

The entire cafeteria was covered from top to bottom in gore. Dead bodies littered the floor and laid sprawled across the tables and benches. Men and women of all ages - their fresh skin coloring indicating that most of them had still been alive when they died - in street clothes lay alongside officers in bloodstained uniforms or black and blue S.W.A.T. gear. Their bodies were covered in deep gashes and some were even missing limbs. Bullet and shell casings laid everywhere, the black and white tile floor was covered in a thick crimson and barely showed any signs of its original color. Only one visible survivor stood alone in the room near the corpse of the heavyset wounded biker Jake had spotted the night before, firing his Benelli M3S shotgun in all directions at several figures scaling the walls and ceiling. The man was the biker called Ace and the perpetrators were the Lickers that had attacked the station earlier. What perhaps was the original attacker had returned and had brought four of its brothers along with him.

Ace fired at a Licker near the back exit and then took notice of the officers. "Get outta here now! More those damned skinless nutslappers are back! They done damned killed everybody in here!" he shouted frantically firing his shotgun before it clicked dry and he withdrew his Glock-17. "I'll hold them off! Just -"

Before the biker could finish his sentence, one of the Lickers hissed and flew across the room with its claws extended. The tearing of fabric was heard and a split second later, the gruff man's entire upper body was separated from his legs and fell onto a nearby table hard enough to overturn it. His abrupt death yielded another discovery.

Beneath the table a teenaged boy of Chinese descent hid covered in blood that had splashed onto his clothing. His short black hair was a mess and his tear-stained face displayed a frenzied panic too much for his young mind to contain.

"Kenny!" Amber screamed as she witnessed a Licker approaching him from above.

The boy now called Kenny suddenly realized that a man's upper torso had fallen near him and he cried out falling backwards against the table he had previously been hiding under and then looked up to see the hungry Licker above him with tongue wagging.

Jake had seen enough and raised his MP5, firing an entire burst that splattered mutated blood all over the ceiling and rained dust and plaster down upon the frightened boy. With a dying squeal, the Licker fell to the floor with a gut-wrenching splat and landed near Kenny, forcing him to let out another horrified cry and climb along the blood-drenched floor cautiously avoiding the dead bodies.

"Kenny, get out of here now!" David hollered to the boy as he opened fire on a Licker scaling the eastern wall near the shattered large windows. Jake, Ben, Parker, Mitch, Castor, Beck, and Foreman all opened fire on the four remaining Lickers. Amber and Lt. Monroe stood crouched to the side with hands extended hoping to pull the youth to safety when he got close enough.

Kenny Feng picked up speed as the gunfire rang out and right now didn't care if he made physical contact with the dead bodies as more blood and plaster rained down upon him from below, combined with the stench of gunpowder threatening to cling to his body. As he moved on, he reached out towards the corpse of a nurse whose name had been Carol and snatched her first-aid kit before both lieutenants finally grabbed a hold of him and dragged him to safety.

Jake stood side by side with David as they fired wildly at the Lickers flying through the air before them, who had now backed off when they noticed the presence of their firearms. Finally catching one in his sights long enough, the career criminal fired an entire volley into the creature's side before he struck in in the skull and sent it flying headfirst into a bulletin board, the board collapsing onto it after it hit the floor.

David slowed down a little too and finally caught one of the beasts with a single round through the head, sending it flying into a soda machine and spilling drinks all over the floor. Ben fired away mercilessly next to him at the two remaining Lickers jumped around desperate to avoid the bullets being fired in their direction. Sgt. Foreman and Mitch joined in and quickly brought down one of the Lickers before Amber Bernstein joined in and dropped the last one with two shots through the head.

All of the officers bent over huffing and puffing while Jake had to brace himself against a wall to avoid falling backwards. The skirmish had taken a lot out of them and they tried their best to avoid looking at the aftermath of the Licker's feast. Before any further words could be said, the moans of more zombies could be heard getting closer and everybody looked towards the smashed windows.

"Come on!" Monroe shouted motioning towards the hall and then pulled the doors shut behind him. He then pulled out a blue keycard and slid it through a card reader, which beeped with a red light. "Okay, that should hold keep them out of here. I doubt those windows would be wide enough for them to climb through."

More crashes came from the adjoining hallway and the officers looked down to find a door nearly flying off its hinges as several zombies came barging in. "We've got more company!" Ben shouted and raised his submachine gun to fire.

"Amber, get Kenny out of here now!" Sgt. Foreman ordered taking notice of the youth still present.

"Come on, let's get you out of here," she said grabbing the teen by the wrist, but he stopped her.

"Wait, take these!" he shouted offering two gray bottles that looked much like what Sebastian had used earlier in the day.

"What?" Foreman asked eyeing the bottles suspiciously, "Where the hell did you get these from? These are dangerous!"

"I found them in the evidence room. Apparently Ford didn't know how to properly secure all those explosives he found at that secret lab over on Abernathy!" Kenny replied shouting over the moans of approaching zombies.

The S.W.A.T. sergeant glared beneath his balaclava, "Tampering with seized evidence is a serious offense kid! Remind me to whoop your ass when this is all over with!"

"Uh Sarge, I hate to interfere, but right now we have more to worry about than some kid going through the evidence!" Ben called out motioning towards the approaching zombies. The undead began piling into the small side corridor and picked up speed as they spotted the living officers. The officers began firing into the crowd much like they had been doing all day long. It was safe to assume that the first floor east wing halls had probably been overrun by now and they wouldn't have the ammo to hold them off. Probably their best bet would be to evacuate and electronically seal off the door using the main hall's computer and hold them off until some kind of plan could be formulated.

Jake held down the trigger of his MP5 and popped several heads like blood-filled balloons and splashed blood onto the sergeant, who seemed to ignore it as he remained preoccupied with dropping those in front of him. With a shout to his troopers, he ordered them to fall back as he produced the two explosive chemical bottles and chucked them into the approaching crowd. Both of his throws struck head on and more than one zombie fell with each strike.

"There's still too many of them!" David shouted to Lt. Monroe, who stood close to him firing shell after shell into the approaching crowd desperately trying to prevent them from advancing any further than the small darkened corridor. "We've probably got half of Raccoon City pouring in here, LT! We're not going to be able to hold them all off at once!"

Henry Monroe grunted in disgust at the thought of his very precinct being overrun by the undead. He had fought valiantly to defend the innocent people of Raccoon ever since the mysterious incidents began to occur after the failed S.T.A.R.S. rescue mission, but things became personal when Officer Remy Sorenson was killed in the line of duty trying to save a teenaged girl from what she described as a "cross between an ape and a lizard" that had slashed him perfectly down the middle. Whoever was behind this was going to have to pay one way or another and he didn't care how many of these things he had to eliminate as long as he could serve justice. The thought of retreating weighed heavily on his conscious, but this time he could tell the looks of fatigue on the officers' faces and decided that maybe for once it would be for the best.

"Fall back to the main hall now!" the lieutenant ordered as he shot another zombie in the torso and knocked its upper body from its legs. Unlike the biker who had just been disemboweled, this upper torso still had life in it and crawled towards him, but was quickly trampled by other zombies tripping over it.

The officers moved back still distracted by the crowd in front of them, so entranced they jumped when the bloody cafeteria windows shattered behind them and several sets of bloody arms began snaking their way into the newly opened windows. One of the dead managed to pop its head through, only to meet a point blank round from Jake's MP5.

Parker Lee had jogged ahead and now held the door to the main hall open frantically waving on his fellow survivors. "Come on before they can get out here!" he shouted in terror as he observed the zombies outside still pounding away at the windows surrounding the main entrance. Sgt. Foreman was the first through the door and instantly made a bee-line towards the reception desk, tossing his MP5 to the marble floor as he reached around his pockets for his security keycard. Ben was the next through the door, training his submachine gun on the entrance and was prepared to take down anything undead that tried to slip through. David followed close behind, dragging Renee through who had slipped on a puddle of blood. Mitch was next, followed by Beck and then Castor and so on before Jake finally made his way through the door and was last followed by Lt. Monroe.

"Shut that fucking door now!" Monroe hollered stumbling to his knees and then flinging himself forward. Parker made sure everybody was through and then pulled the door shut behind him. 

As soon as the last man was through, Sgt. Foreman swiped his card through the reader and input the security code. Banging and muffled groans were all that followed. "There, that should hold those freaks for the time being. At least prevent them from getting in here," he said as Parker handed him back his MP5.

"Hank!" Marvin Branagh called out from above. The desk sergeant was flanked by Amber, Rita Wilcox, Eric Rawlings and Officer Scott. He quickly ran over to the emergency ladder, "Get up here now! Those things are overrunning us!" he shouted frantically, "Take whatever you need and get up here now!"

Lt. Monroe and Sgt. Foreman only looked to each other and shared a muttered "Shit!" between themselves. The sergeant spotted some boxes of ammo lying around and quickly scooped them up along with a can of first-aid spray and some anti-virus capsules and placed them in a small bag before he started his climb up the ladder.

Jake looked down to find David snatching up some green herbs positioned near the front entrance. "What are you doing?" he asked with a quizzical expression.

"Medicinal herbs. I'm getting them for Samantha. She's studying medicine over at the university, there's a chance she might be able to convert them into useful medicines if needed." the S.W.A.T. officer replied scooping them up. "Sometimes you just have to look back to Mother Nature for a cure."

What David told him had made sense. Being a mountain community there were all kinds of herbs growing around the city. Perhaps there had been more around him than he thought, after all he had been forced to use some medicinal herbs before to treat gunshot wounds when he was running from the law. He had to thank some whacked out hippie he met back in San Andreas called "The Truth," who actually managed to teach him about the other uses of herbs whenever he wasn't high and he had even learned some possible herbal remedies from "Gardening With Maurice" while babysitting C.J.'s two burnt out mechanics Jethro and Dwaine.

"Come on, let's move! We only have so much time left before those freaks completely overtake the lower level!" Marvin shouted down to Jake and the others as they lined up to climb the emergency ladder. Jake looked back to the windows where a great number of zombies had congregated and still pounded away at the windows leaving bloody smears on the surface. He could only glare hatefully at them for making his life more difficult and thought of what he would do to them if they crossed his path.

"Smith, move your ass now!" Marvin hollered from above. Jake turned around to find that Mitch had already climbed over the banister and now he was the only one left. With a silent nod he began climbing the ladder and quickly reached the top where he was helped over by Eric and Officer Scott.

"All right that's everybody! Carlsen, open those doors now!" Marvin shouted pushing the button that raised the emergency ladder. The group of survivors made their way over to the library double doors where Neil Carlsen and Elliott Edward stood protectively with submachine gun and shotgun in hand, nodding cautiously before admitting the survivors.

Inside the tense atmosphere had grown to near full-blown chaos as frightened survivors ran around the room and chattered loudly worrying about their own personal protection and what the officers were going to do about it. Jake himself was almost knocked over as a frightened civilian who had attempted to fight with the officers fell at his feet and he looked over to find another civilian being held at bay by a mace-toting officer. Small children were crying, adults wandered around aimlessly contemplating their situation and elderly folks were practically confined to where they sat, unable to move because of their aches and pains. Everybody looked like they had just gotten up from bed and was in dire need of a bath. They were terrified, stressed, dirty and grumpy and would revolt at any minute if the police couldn't maintain control. Chances were they would probably try to find their own escape routes and end up never coming back like those people who had tried to flee through the sewers that Eric had told him about the night before. If the civilians knew how much firepower he carried at the moment, then it was highly likely they would try to beat him down and take his weapons for themselves, something he would never allow to happen.

Jake looked over to where his cot had been the night before and there he found Donald still sitting there with one arm wrapped protectively around his beloved wife and his trusted shotgun being held in the other. Denise, Elza and Samantha sat near the couple talking with them and trying to lighten the mood. Eric walked back over to the group and was followed closely by D.J. Towards the stairs leading to the third floor walkway he found that Kenny kid he had saved earlier sitting between little Sherry Birkin and a tall nameless red-haired male in a black t-shirt. Amber and Rita immediately walked over to the trio offering them some bottled drinks and Hot Pocket snacks kept in the food reserves. David, Ben, Mitch, Parker and Renee all walked over to where Donald and the others sat and he watched as David offered Samantha the medicinal herbs. Sure enough, the young woman carried a medical kit and began working with the herbs. Castor and Beck both walked over to young women whom he assumed were probably their wives and not too far away from them, he spotted Sebastian writing something in a small black book with the Umbrella symbol on it, probably a diary. Lastly, Lt. Monroe and Sgt. Foreman walked over to where Marvin stood and they were joined shortly after by Sgt. Carlsen, Officer Scott, David Ford and Elliott Edward. Mayor Warren and a few other officers joined in on the meeting in progress.

"Oh Christ! Those fuckers are pouring in here at a rapid pace, we're losing ground ever passing second!" a panicked young officer named Jameson called out, his grease and blood-stained face and mud-caked uniform suggesting that he had seen his fair share of violence

"Jameson relax, we've got the doors barricaded and there's enough guys in here to make mince meat out of those freaks in seconds," Edward said assuringly pumping his shotgun to emphasize his point.

"What will we do now?" Neil Carlsen cut in, "By now most of the first floor has probably been overtaken by those creeps and they could be pressing further up here as we speak. We have to come up with something fast or we'll end up like those guys outside!"

"Neil hush! You're going to make things worse around here than they already are if you don't keep it down," Marvin ordered with an authoritative bark. The desk sergeant then turned his attention to Lt. Monroe and Sgt. Foreman, "So what do you guys say we do?"

"We'll wait here for awhile," Monroe replied, "A lot of people are already tired from being chased around and we'll need some time to rest before we can move any further. Those idiots probably have a hard time with stairs and probably don't get the concept of ladders either. They would have to travel through two corridors and a lounge area to get here. Even if they do make it this far, there are plenty of armed individuals here who would drop them in seconds."

"There's another problem too, Lieutenant. Those zombies have seemingly overran the entire first floor of our east wing, meaning they have probably cut off our only path to the basement level as well. If we want our backup evac plans to take place, we will have to clear a path through those undead motherfuckers wide enough where we'll be able to reach the kennels and car park without too many hazards." Sgt. Foreman explained looking to the officers around him.

"Well someone's going to have to run the gauntlet then. Round up all the suicidal bastards we possibly can." David Ford spoke up, speaking for what seemed to be the first time in ages. Witnessing many of the horrors had traumatized him to the point where he barely spoke and had become increasingly withdrawn, caring only about the bottle of whiskey he had been carrying on him at all times. The pessimistic, death-like tone he spoke with chilled the other officers to the bone and temporarily threw them off track before they finally regained their composure.

"Yes, in a sense Officer Ford is right." Lt. Monroe added shooting a glare in Ford's direction, "We're going to have to get a few heavily armed survivors to run the gauntlet. A path must be cleared to the cell block by any means necessary."

Screams and gunfire were heard again coming from the lounge adjoining the library, forcing everybody to jump and the civilians to panic even further.

"You'd better round up that group of suicidal bastards right now, Lieutenant, or else we don't have much time left," David Ford rasped pumping his Mossburg shotgun.

Jake looked away pretending not to overhear the conversation, but checked over his MP5 to make sure it was still in good working order. He was almost confident that he would fall among that group chosen to run the gauntlet of horrors creeping into the station. Now was not the time to cut and run, but he was sure that he would be able to find a suitable escape path that would allow him to find that Umbrella chemical plant and ultimately his target.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Glass shattering filled the air and within seconds zombies of all shapes and sizes began piling into the hall through their hastily created entrances.

"Kill them all!" screamed a frightened officer who quickly opened fire with his Remington shotgun.

Clinton Barnes and Joshua Silvers stood side-by-side with weapons drawn and instantly opened fire upon a small group of zombies that had landed in front of them, both wasting most of their clips before they had finally managed to drop them with potshots to their rotting faces and skulls. For both officers, they were new to the R.P.D. and this was totally not what they had expected. Silvers was an idealistic young rookie fresh out of the police academy, Barnes had served with the Oakhill Police Department before he was transferred not too long ago. This was not the kind of greeting either of them had expected, but now they would have to find a way out if they could at all.

Almost immediately several of their colleagues fell without even getting to squeeze off any rounds against their attackers, the sound of Barnes and Silvers' gunfire muted out by the dying screams of their colleagues. A few managed to survive the initial wave and were dropping their attackers with headshots, but it wasn't enough and within seconds they too were overwhelmed by the monsters tackling them to the ground and ripping away at their flesh.

"Get away!" Josh screamed firing into the face of an elderly man who lunged towards him. Another zombie was there to take the old man's place as soon as he fell and he squeezed off another round impacting with the new zombie's chin and nearly tearing its jaw completely off. Clint stood next to him and dropped another zombie with a round through its right eye.

"Come on, we have to get to the library!" Clinton hollered as another officer fell next to them and he leapt over the man's corpse and was prepared to climb under the table that had been nailed across the door until it was knocked from the doorway and two more zombies came barging in, also to fall before his handgun rounds. "Okay, this way's been cleared, you can -"

Clinton looked back to see that Josh was now out of ammo and swinging his nightstick at his assailants, but was being knocked backwards instead of forward.

"Go on without me!" Josh shouted back. The rookie officer stumbled back and judging by all of the zombies falling in front of him he probably would not be able to pass through with his colleague. He could see that the young man was inching himself back towards the file room. "I mean it, go! I'll hide in the file room until the cavalry arrives!" Joshua Silvers cracked his nightstick over the head of another zombie before he reached the door and threw himself inside, the aforementioned dead clawing away at the door's steel surface as he locked the door behind him.

A loud growl startled Clinton from his thoughts and he turned around to find a tall zombie standing high above him with rotting yellow teeth bared. The newly-transferred officer let out a loud yelp and brought his gun up, firing a round into the undead man's neck. The shot only knocked the former man backwards and gushed his blood out onto the nearby wall. Clinton followed up with another shot and obliterated the entire upper half of the zombie's skull before he entered the newly reopened west wing corridor.

Upon entering the trashed hall, the young officer could hear the sounds of glass crunching underneath feet and saw a blonde-haired woman staggering around with her back to him, waiting for some potential prey to walk in her direction. He didn't even give her the time to turn around and fired a round striking her at the base of her skull. The force of the bullet's impact caused the zombified woman to whirl around violently before she hit the ground and he got a good look at her face before she hit the floor. Clinton Barnes suddenly wished he had not fired upon the woman zombie or not.

The zombie he just killed had once been Heather Balzary, Chief Irons' new secretary. She was fresh out of the smaller Arklay County Community College and unsure of what she wanted to do with her life, so until she found something else she would work as a station secretary. Judging by accounts he had heard from the young woman herself and Lt. Bernstein, the second she met Brian Irons she knew she had made a bad decision. The young secretary was revolted by the disturbing artwork he had a preference for and claimed that on more than one occasion, he had tried to grope her. That kind of behavior disgusted the officer and had him regretting his decision to accept Irons' offer for a transfer, but then again both individuals were strapped for cash and needed the money.

Nevertheless, Heather was well-liked amongst the other officers and had already made quite a few friends on the force already. Clinton himself had already had the pleasure of having a few drinks with her down at Bar Jack and really grew to like her. Had this incident not occurred, he would definitely have asked her out on a date. Unfortunately, any attempts at a possible relationship were now lost forever.

Clinton had to put those thoughts at the back of his mind as another zombie rounded the corner and was about to make a move for Heather's corpse. He quickly fired a round and caught the former police officer between the eyes, sending the walking cadaver flying into the wall behind it. The zombie fell against the wall still looking at him through its glossed over white eyes, spooking the hell out of him. He tried his best to ignore that as he walked over to the young secretary's corpse and knelt down to shut her eyes, a final show of respect towards a woman who truly deserved it, one he really liked and could have had so much more with had this incident never occurred.

Loud crashes came from behind and he looked over his shoulder to see several sets of undead arms reaching through the cracks of the boarded up windows. "Time to get out of here!" he thought as he took one last look at Heather Balzary's corpse and then entered the next hall.

Before he could even shut the door behind him, the officer felt cold, powerful hands gripping his shoulders. It was too late and within seconds he cried out as he felt a set of jagged teeth biting down into his collarbone.

"Get off!" he screamed trying to grab his assailant struggling for several seconds before he finally managed to punch the zombie off of him and knocked it backwards against the wall near the evidence room entrance. With a cry of hatred he fired a shot straight into the undead man's forehead. Looking closer at the corpse, it had been that of patrolman Artie Queens, whose nose had been busted and barely attached to his face and upper lip had been torn of, leaving behind a horrid permanent grin.

The realization that he had just killed another familiar face from the force also made him realize that he had been bitten and the pain of his fresh would finally stung him. His right hand was covered in blood within a matter of seconds and he was nearly frozen in place as he realized that he might end up like one of those people outside after seeing what had happened to the owner of the Grill 13 restaurant when he had been bitten. Several officers had been forced to shoot him to death when he began displaying the symptoms of the mysterious virus running rampant throughout the city.

A brief "Oh God..." escaped his lips as he turned around to find more zombies staggering in his direction. Already feeling woozy from the blood loss, he weakly raised his gun to fire, nearly knocked from his feet by the recoil. His latest bullet only managed to strike an approaching male zombie wearing a bloody white dress shirt in the shoulder, knocking its arm out of place and leaving it hanging by the skin. Mustering up his remaining strength he fired what was left of his clip into the advancing zombies, killing none of them. Cursing bitterly, he fished around for any spare clips, but found nothing.

"Damn you fuckers," he spat coughing up some blood. The zombies advanced further down the hall and he decided his only option was to reach higher ground, where there would be more armed police officers there to take down the undead.

Steadying himself, he broke into a charge narrowing dodging the outstretched arm of the closest zombie and then spun his entire body around before knocking another zombie against the wall with a rough shoulder charge. A female zombie stood in his way, but was taken down by a hasty foot sweep, and then he spotted the lower stairwell. He forgot to check the small leading to the dark room behind him and another zombie tackled him to the ground.

"Get away bastard!" Clinton Barnes screamed as he brought his fist up and punched the zombie in the cheek, but the undead fiend only shook the blow off and lowered its face towards him, forcing the bleeding officer to clamp his hands beneath the freak's chin in a futile attempt to hold him at bay. The officer's urgency only grew as the zombies from earlier now stood over him. The crashing of more glass came from behind and the dying man looked back to see more zombies climbing in through the shattered windows.

The last thing Clinton Barnes ever saw was the zombies climbing the steps to the station's second floor and then he saw nothing after that.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Oh shit! There's more of them coming!" cried S.W.A.T. scout Jarek Bentley raising his MP5 at the new wave of approaching zombies.

Craig Shepherd and his unit had been charged with patrolling the R.P.D.'s basement level for any potential threats. Throughout most of the day their patrol had gone off with a hitch aside from a few noises, which had proven to come from the machinery in the generator room. Even the slightest bump would set the tense S.W.A.T. officers off after everything that had been going on outside. Being assigned to the dark basement didn't help matters much either as they mostly had to rely only upon the flashlight attachments on their weapons to provide them with their only light. Having seen one too many horror movies in their lives, all of his men and women were expecting anything to jump out at them any second now and they hoped the higher-ups could think up some kind of quick escape plan so they could get the hell out of Dodge. Things had gone smoothly until a few hours ago.

A new wave of zombies had descended upon the police department, one much larger than the small groups they had been encountering throughout the previous days. Nothing had been heard from the barricades outside so they assumed the worst had happened and could only stand around and secure the lower levels the best they could. The unit had been making their usual back and forth rounds until the scream of Harry Muntz brought them back to the car park.

The S.W.A.T. officers had arrived just in time to find the chubby officer scrambling into the S.W.A.T. van and locking the door behind him. Soon enough they spotted what he was running from, a wave of zombies that had snuck in through the rear entrance and were now piling into the parking garage.

Taking advantage of the walking cadavers' slow movements, the heavily armed S.W.A.T. officers managed to drop most of them right away with their automatic weapons and shotguns, leaving bullet-riddled bodies littered all over the pavement. The next wave of zombies was now approaching with murderous intent and they had their eyes set on the first man they spotted, Jarek Bentley.

"You know the drill, shoot them in the fucking head!" Shepherd shouted to his men and fired a salvo of hot lead from his M4A1. The rest of the officers fired upon the zombies from protective positions behind the armored squad cars and larger civilian vehicles parked in the garage, the flashes of their muzzles illuminating the darkened space.

Shepherd continued firing upon the zombies until he suddenly took notice of the door above and then looked over to sniper Skip Antrim, who fired away upon the undead fiends, dropping most of the them with one shot kills.

"Antrim, shoot at the gate now! Drop it so we can hold these things off!"

Skip Antrim nodded and positioned his rifle's tripod on the hood of the Feltzer convertible he stood behind. Carefully lining up his sights, he fired a quick round into the latch holding the door up and sent it coming down with a grinding scream that crushed a zombie who had fallen on its stomach.

"Okay, that should hold those undead fucks off for a while," Shepherd said to his men as they fell in around him. "All right, we're going to have to keep this area secure. Chances are the others might try coming down here trying to escape through the sewer system. We'll have to keep a clear path for them. Provide some protection for Harry too if they need him to get them out of here."

Officer Shepherd looked around to the men present, "Ramirez, take Borden, Nash and Haller with you. Patrol the entire hallway for any dangers. We'll call you back if we need you." The officers nodded and exited the garage. "Bentley, Antrim, the rest of you, stay put. We have no idea if that gate will hold up or not. Stand guard until we receive further orders from Sgt. Foreman."

A few tense minutes passed before the sound of several dogs growling made everybody jump followed by one man's dying scream and two booming blasts from a shotgun. Seconds later, the canine growling was replaced by several ragged hisses followed by the blasts of several firearms discharged in unison. Soon more screams followed, gut-wrenching human cries of pain.

"Oh lord...what's going on?" medic Lewis Hopper cried out in horror, maintaining a death grip on his combat shotgun. The man not only feared for his own safety, but for that of his comrades as well. He had lost his medical kit trying to escape from the zombies outside and if any colleagues were seriously wounded he would not be able to help them out.

Shepherd said nothing and only stared intently at the entrance with rifle drawn, ready to shoot down the first non-human thing that would come charging through.

The door nearly broke off of its hinges as the bloody form of Gabriel Haller fell through the door, his uniform in ragged tatters barely hanging to his figure. He was losing blood at a rapid pace and his left arm barely hung on to the rest of his body. It was clear he was already dying and tried to climb towards his fellow officers, but was too weak to do so. The remaining S.W.A.T. officers ran over to him and held him down on the ground.

"Haller, what did this to you?" Shepherd asked the dying man as he stared deep into the man's panicked brown eyes. The dying officer only made a few heavy breathing noises before he rolled his head off to the side.

"Shit! Shepherd watch out!" Antrim cried as he quickly drew his sniper rifle and fired a round into what it was that had pursued Haller from the darkness.

The creature fell to the ground with a wet splat that forced all of the officers to jump backward, avoiding its viral-infected blood as it flew through the air.

"What the fuck is that?" another officer named Bradley asked staring in bewilderment. The other officers could offer no answers and Craig Shepherd sure as hell couldn't as they all stared at what laid before them. The creature looked like a skinless human being with foot long claws and talons with a long tongue hanging from its mouth. The sight was completely new to the officers patrolling the lower levels, but unknown to them their co-workers upstairs had already encountered several and had lost more numbers to those things.

A loud metallic clang came from behind and the officers turned around to find another skinless creature having just landed on the ground behind them. The creature hissed loudly and impaled the closest officer with its tongue, sending the hapless soul flying onto the hood of a nearby Sabre.

"Fire!" Shepherd screamed, raising his M4A1 and firing a short burst in the creature's direction.

The creature was too quick for the troopers and it flipped backwards landing on the roof of a parked squad car. With an ear-piercing shriek, it shot out its tongue and struck Skip Antrim in his throat, dropping him to the concrete immediately. The sniper was too weak to clutch at his ruined throat and within seconds he laid perfectly still.

A flicker of movement came from Shepherd's left and he ducked just in time to avoid another set of foot-long claws aimed at his head. The creature was now joined by another one of its kind and it let out a shriek as it whirled around and shot its tongue out at him. The trooper hardly had enough time to sidestep the attack, but he had human intelligence on his side. Rolling up to one knee, he fired a three-round burst into the creature's sinewy body, knocking it backwards onto another patrol car. A nerve-wracking shriek of pain escaped from its mouth and the monster rolled off the car and flailed its limbs as it fell to the pavement.

"I got this one, Shepherd!" Marc Laidlaw called out running over to the downed creature and firing three shotgun blasts into the monster's body. "Scream for that you ugly bastard!"

The lights flickered on and off in the dimly-lit parking garage and the screams of fear and pain echoed from all sides. Officer Shepherd placed his back against Laidlaw's and they fired at the jumping elongated shadows streaking through the air above them hoping to eliminate the threat. The extra muzzle flashes and angry shouts of their colleagues soon phased out one-by-one and it was down to the two S.W.A.T. officers firing away madly at the elusive threat surrounding them.

"Shit, Shepherd I'm out!" Laidlaw cried over the animalistic shrieks tossing down his combat shotgun and withdrawing his H&K VP-70 sidearm.

From the overhead light behind them, Craig Shepherd could tell that they were just inches away from the exit. "Marc, come on! We have to get upstairs and warn the others!"

Laidlaw nodded to his colleague and both made a break for the door, but not before the severed heads of one of their own was tossed against the door with a sickly wet splat, a taunting reminder of their failure to save their comrades. They tried their best to ignore it and flung themselves through the door.

Officer Laidlaw being the bigger of the two, braced himself against the door while Shepherd grabbed a nearby iron pipe and wedged it shut. Both men fell back against the cool, damp walls panting heavily and staring towards each other with frantic gazes.

"Those fucking lizard freaks! They murdered Bentley, Hopper and the whole bunch of them!" Marc Laidlaw shouted in a frightened anger pounding the wall behind him. "That thing was too fucking strong!"

"Marc calm down!" Shepherd shouted and eased the grip on his assault rifle. The older officer tried hard to slow his breathing and looked at the armory entrance not too far away from them. A bloody handprint stood visibly on an otherwise clean door and a trail of blood led around the corner to where they would find the autopsy room, generator room, shooting range and station locker rooms. "Shit, remember only Haller came through the door before Antrim wasted that thing following him? Get ready, maybe the others are around the corner." The officer knew he probably had to expect the worse with only Haller making it out barely alive so he had to mentally brace himself. Switching on his flashlight attachment, he slowly stood up and motioned for Laidlaw to follow suit. Hugging the wall near the corner, he nodded quietly and then threw himself around the corner.

Surely enough, the two surviving S.W.A.T. officers found the others, more appropriately what was left of them.

Ramirez, Nash and Borden all laid about in the darkened hallway in various twisted positions. They bore the deep gash marks similar to what Haller had sustained at the hands of the "Licker" creature and above them were claw marks littering the walls made by the monster. A few inches away from the officers was the shot up corpse of an R.P.D. police dog, explaining the growling noises before they were probably attacked.

"Why that no good undead..." Laidlaw was about to say until he was cut off by more growling.

Stepping out of the darkness, four mutilated Dobermans appeared frothing at the mouth eyes set on the two officers in front of them.

"Kill them!" Shepherd screamed raising his rifle.

The crackle of gunfire rang out, followed once again by the ever present screams of agony.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gunfire sounded out from the nearby car park, startling all the prisoners from their slumber.

"Son of a whore! What the hell is going on out there?" shouted a frightened sounding man who crawled into a fetal position on his bunk.

"Beats the hell outta me!" replied a ghetto-accented voice from the cell across.

"Like maybe those pigs have inhaled too many of those blue herbs and are killing each other now!" added a street smart feminine voice.

"Maybe somebody's come to bust us out!" another called out shaking the bars of his cell.

"I have no idea what the hell is going on out there, but they must be having one hell of a party out there!" shouted another.

Jorge Ruiz, better known on the streets as "El Lobo," was immediately roused by the gunfire and pressed himself against the bars trying to look towards the entrance.

"You best sit yo' worthless Rook ass down!" shouted the African-American prisoner from the cell directly across.

"Fuck you, Joker bitch!" Jorge shouted to the man across from him as he best tried to ignore the rest of the man's degrading comments and focus on the cell block entrance hoping to get some kind of answer soon.

"You'd better watch how you talk to my buddy you piece of shit, or else we're going to bust out of here and hang you by your tongue!" the white Joker in the cell across from him called out.

Dealing with the rival gang members in the cell across from him was the least of his worries right now. Whatever was going on outside it was big and involved some kind of attack against the station, explaining the usage of automatic weapons and shotguns. The gang member doubted that the attackers could have been his fellow Rooks coming to spring him from the joint, they were too smart to try and storm a station full of heavily-armed and expertly-trained police officers. Plus they lacked enough men to carry out such a mission, having lost a majority of their men through warring with rival street gangs and from all the arrests made in Mayor Warren's new campaign to crack down on crime in the downtown area.

He then looked over to the two men in the cell across from him. The African-American was Samuel Mays and the bald Caucasian was Nathan Biggs. Both men belonged to a rival street gang known as the Jokers and Jorge had been familiar with them from previous skirmishes. The Rooks and Jokers were immersed in a bloody turf war for control of the decaying Pleasance district, more commonly known to outsiders and insiders alike as "Poisonville" as it is the location of a majority of Raccoon City's factories.

Both Jokers in the past had been present when their gang attacked a bar frequented by the Rooks. Jorge and several of his friends were nearly killed in the incident and his best friend Ramon was badly wounded in the assault. The two rival gang members were also well-known as they had been responsible for a majority of the Joker taggings of Rook-protected businesses. They were also present during a large gang fight and had double-teamed his friend Marcos, breaking three of his ribs and his right arm. Jorge was arrested a few days ago for firing shots into their getaway car as they fled from a robbery on a local grocery store owned by an old family friend. Unfortunately the police were more concerned that he carried a gun rather than investigating the robbery and was currently awaiting transfer to the minimum security Douglas facility. It was in a sense bittersweet as the two were finally arrested when they tried to burglarize the home of his ex-girlfriend Marisela. Now he could bring them down with him and they would actually receive some sort of punishment for their crimes against him and his friends, unless they found some way to bribe the officials, which he highly doubted.

"Try me Uptown Boy!" Jorge shouted towards Nathan.

The Joker bristled at the comment. Nathan Biggs was easily enraged whenever anybody made remarks about his past life living in the elegant Uptown district of Raccoon City, the nice, upscale life he was forced out of.

Nathan Biggs was not always a hardened criminal. At one point in his life, he was an arrogant Uptown jock who looked down upon those beneath his social status. Born into a wealthy family, he attended the expensive St. Michael's Academy where he was a straight A student and star athlete. His athletic exploits decorated the sports section of the Raccoon Press and he was expected to earn a scholarship to any college of his choice, that is until he was busted for distributing drugs to the students of Raccoon City Secondary School. His reputation was forever tarnished and he was disowned by his upstanding family.

Jorge's upbringing on the other hand was the polar opposite. The son of illegal Mexican immigrants, his father ran away before he was born and thus he and his older sister were raised by a single mother who worked as an exotic dancer at the sleazy Pyramid Gentlemen's Club and earned some side money in prostitution, thus he often lacked adequate supervision and was forced to fend for himself from an early age. He committed his earliest crimes in elementary school, often breaking into people's homes and shoplifting from local businesses. The crimes escalated as he grew older and he soon found himself in constant trouble with the law, often for fights he got into with the wealthy Uptowners. He was finally expelled from school for bringing a gun with the intention of taking out a popular quarterback who constantly bullied him. Not long after, he began running with the Rooks and had seen his fair share of gang violence and now here he was today.

"Calm down, Nate. We'll get his bitch ass eventually!" Samuel barked, pulling his fellow gang member away from the bars.

"Man...you three all must really hate each other..." the panicked man snickered pressing his face ghoulishly almost through the bars of his cell.

"Shut up, crackhead or we're gonna cut you up along with him!" Nathan roared at the man, forcing him into the corner like a scalded dog. The man's named was Jacky and he was a junkie who had been hauled in for robbing a deli while on a high. His short black hair was a mess and stubble covered his face. A sweat-stained white shirt and wrinkled blue dress pants were all he wore, his ragged shoes laid beneath his bunk. Sweat poured off his body like a waterfall and he was shaking constantly, suffering the effects of withdrawal and in desperate need of a fix.

"Do it, this fucker's not leaving me alone. He wants more crack, but Johnny Law confiscated all the merchandise when I got busted." The man sharing the cell was a shorter man of Italian descent. He wore a tan colored overcoat, looking more like a 1930's detective than a drug dealer, brown slacks, fancy black loafers and a white dress shirt underneath. A dark gray fedora hat covered his short black hair and he constantly stared at a gold Rolex watch on his left wrist. This man was known on the streets as Smug, renowned dealer of every known illegal substance in Raccoon City. He was rumored to have connections with a powerful Mafia family and have fled to the seclusion of the Raccoon City mountain community after a major deal went wrong. Whoever he once worked for, it was a miracle they hadn't tracked him down yet with the reputation he had on the streets of Raccoon.

"Heh, gladly!" Jorge chuckled shooting an evil glare in Jacky's direction.

"There, there," a feminine voice purred into the Rook's ear. "Normally I love it when guys get all aggressive, but right now you should hold off until we at least get some place private. I'm not one for public exhibition you know."

Jorge turned to look at his cellmate. She was a woman probably in her late twenties or early thirties with long red hair she wore tied back in a straight ponytail. Her face was covered in enough makeup to almost pass her off as a certain clown and the provocative clothing she wore revealed more than she absolutely needed to. A pair of ample breasts were barely covered by the black halter top she wore over them and then had a brown mink coat on that had been given to her by a wealthy previous customer. Her black mini-skirt revealed a set of legs scarred from heroin injections and the dark leggings and knee-high black boots failed to conceal them. She was Kristy Klamp, wanted for numerous counts of prostitution, drug dealing and assault.

"Can't you think of something else besides making a buck right now, lady?" Jorge snapped in a tone heavy with irritation. The man had been held in this cramped cell for the past three days and had gone the past few hours without food. Sex was the absolute last thing on his mind right now and he had the misfortune of being stuck with a horny prostitute who probably had more than one sexually transmitted disease floating in her system. At least it beat sharing a cell with a crackhead.

"It must be starting now," a new voice inquired, making his presence known for the first time in hours. In the cell next to Nathan and Samuel's stood a man in his thirties wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, brown pin-striped slacks and a red tie. His brown hair was chin length and tied back in a short ponytail. The man's name was Ben Bertolucci and he was a well-known investigative reporter from the Raccoon Press. He had been dragged into the cell kicking and screaming yesterday afternoon after he had created a scene in the station's library. A bunch of civilians had gathered at the station from some mysterious attacks occurring at random throughout the city and the reporter claimed he knew a way out through the sewers. Apparently a few of them had tried to escape and never came back, as evidenced by all the screams and pounding footsteps the prisoners had head the day before. Thus Mr. Bertolucci was thrown into the cell so he could not create any more chaos upstairs.

"Just what the hell are you talking about?" Samuel shouted to the man next to him, "What the hell is going on in this city? Is there something your nosy investigative ass isn't tellin' us about?"

"Yeah, you reporter types always seem to have your head up the city's ass! Mind telling us anything you might now?" Smug called out entering the fray.

"Cadavers, the living dead, zombies...whatever you wanna call them, they're flooding into the city as we speak. The building must be under siege with all the fresh humans gathered here, they'd only see this place as some great big all you can eat buffet," he spoke leaning against the wall of his cell with hands in his pockets.

"What? Just what in the living fuck are you talking about?" Samuel replied nearly laughing, thinking that the man was joking around. "You mean to tell us that all this bullshit is being caused by zombies? Man, you're starting to sound just like that crackhead Jacky over there! Zombies don't exist! Jeez man, weren't you too old to believe in everything you saw on the horror movies like what, twenty years ago?"

"Laugh at me all you want, but I'm not joking around. Look, I don't want to say any names because I don't know if our cells are bugged or not, but let's just say that an internationally renowned pharmaceuticals company is secretly developing chemical weapons that can turn a living, breathing person into a zombie and God knows what else. Nobody would suspect them because they have so much power they practically own this town and our reliance upon them is going to be our eventual downfall." The man spoke in a composed, but grim tone and then sunk down onto his cot staring at the floor.

Both of the Jokers in the next cell over broke out laughing and were joined by Kristy and Smug.

"Man, you sure are fucked up big time!" Nathan snorted slapping at his thigh as he buckled over from laughing so hard. "Corporations creating illegal bio-weapons, your vendetta with some bitch reporter, looking for the scoop of the century! What's next? Giant man-eating plants are living in the sewers?"

"You're right. I came here looking for a scoop and instead I find this bullshit," Ben replied perking his head up and looking over towards Jacky and Smug, "If anybody believed me then we could've had all the survivors rounded up and halfway through the sewers by now, but that's not going to happen with a certain dickhead in charge around here."

The other prisoners were so immersed in the argument, Jorge seemed to be the only one who took notice of the gate leading into the cell area sliding open and an officer approaching.

"Hey copper, what the hell's going on out there?" Jorge shouted to the approaching police officer. The man did not respond and continued his march towards the cells, dragging his feet along the way. 

"Hey pig, answer my fucking question will -" Jorge was cut off and jumped backwards as the officer approached his cell.

The police officer, or what had been a police officer, let out a hollow moan and reached a set of decaying arms through the iron bars. The man's uniform was covered in dried blood and what looked like chunks of human flesh. His beaten cap cast a shadow upon his features, but still failed to disguise his disfigurement. What had once been the peach colored skin of a Caucasian man was now a sickly ashen gray and his eyes were pure glossed over white. Boils leaking yellow puss covered his face and parts that weren't were peeling off in huge chunks, revealing the red muscle underneath. A mouth full of broken yellow teeth dripped flesh bloody chunks as he moaned again, spewing out a toxic breath reeking of urine and rotten fruit. The former officer didn't mind the eyes upon him as he reached through the bars with his rotting arms trying to get at the living humans in front of him.

All of the prisoners stood silently in shock with their backs pressed against the cool walls of their cells unable to believe what stood before them.

"Oh god, I have so taken too much crack!" Jacky said aloud and then repeated to himself, "Zombies don't exist. Zombies don't exist. Zombies don't exist..."

"What the fuck is wrong with ya' cracka' ass!" Samuel shouted as he stared at the zombie reaching through in Jorge and Kristy's direction.

A zombie. It had to be a zombie no doubt. Maybe Ben wasn't as insane as the others tried to make him out to be. Whatever the thing was, there were probably more close by and they would have to escape regardless if they were in a police station or not. Looking over to Kristy, who was now crying and had her mascara running down her face creating hideous black tears, Jorge quickly slipped on his black leather jacket with a white Rook chess piece on the back and approached the zombie.

"Yes, reach for me you freak!" the Rook taunted as he inched closer and closer towards the zombie's outstretched arm being careful not to get caught. With a deft movement of his hands, he leapt towards the zombified police officer and reached his hands through to seize the former cop by his collar and leapt backwards, slamming the zombie's head against the bars. The gang member repeated the process two more times before finally snapping the zombie's neck and letting it collapse to the ground in front of his cell.

"What a man!" Kristy exclaimed fluttering her eyes, but Jorge ignored her as he spotted a welcome sight on the dead man's body, the keys to the cells. He quickly reached through the bars and snatched them up, unlocking his door and for the first time in three days stepping out of the cramped confines of his cell.

"Hey come on! You're not going to leave us here are you?" Smug called as he and Jacky began pounding away on their bars desperately hoping that they would not be left in the dark, depressing area to slowly starve to death. Jorge gave them a quick look before searching the dead officer's body and coming up with a Beretta 9mm. handgun and two clips in reserve.

"Come on, you two can't just leave the rest of us here to die!" Jacky pleaded, "Please, we won't make a sound! We just want to get the hell outta here so we can get back to our lives and put this all behind us!"

"All right," Jorge nodded walking over to their cell. "You two can come along, just keep your mouths shut and let me lead the way!" He opened their door and released them into the hall, where they silently celebrated their greater freedom of movement from the cramped cell. The Rooks member searched the officer's body further, producing a survival knife and a baton which he handed to the two other men.

"What about him?" Smug asked pointing towards Ben, who sat back on his bed with his head resting against the wall.

"Yeah, what about you, Newsboy? What's it gonna be?" Jorge asked standing in front of his cell about to unlock the door when the reporter stopped him.

"Leave me. Those zombies aren't the only things crawling around out there," he said shaking his head, "I'm going to stay here until the madness dies down."

"Fine, we're going then!" Jorge ordered making his way towards the main gate, but was stopped when Kristy grabbed him by the arm.

"What about those two?" she asked pointing towards Nathan and Samuel, who only stared at their rival gang member with looks of utter contempt.

"Yeah, what about us?" Nathan growled cracking his knuckles as he stared directly into Jorge's dark brown eyes, which returned his hateful glare. It was obvious there was a deep-seated hatred between both men and chances were very high if the former were to be sprung from his cell he would probably leap for his adversary's throat. "You'd better let us out or else we're coming to haunt you when we die, and chances are you won't survive our visit."

Jorge raised his gun and prepared to fire until Smug clamped his hand over the gun, "Wait! I know you might not like those guys, but we could always the backup! You know man, strength in numbers!" The Rooks member only looked at the dealer in disbelief.

"Yeah, we could totally use some extra help with whatever's going on out there," Kristy spoke looking down at the officer's corpse.

Jorge looked at the officer's corpse and then at the two rival gang members standing in the cell before him. As much as he hated the two men for their affiliations with a rival gang that had caused him much hardship in the past, maybe the two outsiders with him had a point. Something bad was obviously going on outside and if there were more of those zombies running around outside, then he would need all the help he could get. He looked to Smug, Kristy and Jacky and then over to the two Jokers. For the best he would have to temporarily set aside his grievances with his enemies.

"All right," the Rook half-sighed, half-growled, "I'll let both of you out, but under the following conditions: First, you aren't to fight with any of us. Keep your hands, feet and other objects to yourself and you'll be all right. Second, you stick with the group, absolutely no running off. If you do, I will personally track you down myself. Third, if you find anything of use to the group as a whole, then you are to divide it evenly amongst all of us. Lastly, there will be absolutely no ratting out to the cops! You try to turn any of us in to save your own asses then you are automatically D.O.A. We are all in this together whether you like it or not." Jorge jingled the keys in front of the two Jokers, feeling a sudden surge of power knowing that he now held some leverage over his rivals.

Nathan and Samuel looked cautiously towards each other and nodded. "Fine, we're in, but just let it be known that this changes nothing between us afterwards." Nathan spoke standing protectively in front of his fellow member.

"Good enough with me," Jorge spoke and carefully freed his two rivals. With the two Jokers freed he then returned his attention to Ben. "All right Newsboy, you also said that you know a way out of here. Where is it?"

"There is a manhole entrance in the kennel just down the hall. It should lead you through the sewers and to a possible exit leading to nearby Latham. It won't be easy though, and you're sure as hell going to need more than that gun and those melee weapons," the reporter spoke standing up and crossing his arms across his chest.

"Fine, we're heading out now. Good luck, Newsboy," Jorge said and handed the keys over to the reporter before leaving.

The six escaped convicts entered the dimly lit basement hallway walking slowly and quietly with Jorge taking point, Beretta raised at eye level. Smug and Jacky were the only ones armed besides him and walked right behind him with Nathan and Samuel at the rear flanking Kristy protectively from both sides.

"That door right there must be it!" Jacky blurted out, forcing Smug to clamp his free hand over the junkie's mouth and motion for him to remain quiet. The Rook member raised a hand and motioned for the others to halt. More dragging footsteps could be heard in the distance and he stood tall with gun ready.

Two more zombified police officers rounded the corner and suddenly picked up speed as they spotted the group of escapees. Jorge squeezed the trigger three times, two rounds embedding themselves in the first zombie's right eye and the last dropping the second cop with a shot between the eyes. Listening intently for any more noises the Rook then motioned for the two Jokers to follow him and together they searched both corpses, finding a 9mm. Burst Handgun with two additional clips Nathan pocketed from the first corpse, and a customized Colt .45 Automatic with an extra clip in reserve that Samuel took from the second corpse. Some shotgun shells were also found on the second cop and not too far away a customized Remington laid abandoned on the cold musty floor. Nathan was very adept with shotguns and decided to take it for himself. Towards the end of the hall the group found the remnants of a female officer who had probably been the zombie's dinner. They found a .38 revolver and stun gun on her body, which both went to Kristy. From there it was agreed that the next firearm found would go to either Smug or Jacky.

With new weapons gathered, the group then positioned itself outside of the kennel. "All right, Nathan, you have the most powerful weapon out of all of us. Perform a quick sweep of the room. Samuel and I will watch your back." The three gang members nodded to each other and with a mighty kick Nathan sent the door flying open.

"Shit!" both the Jokers blurted out in unison. Before them, two messed up looking Dobermans feasting on a shorter, stout man dressed in a dark blue uniform. The two undead mutts stopped everything they were doing and turned to the three gangsters with fresh chunks dripping from their mouths just like the zombie cop in the cell block had. With vile snarls the two dogs charged forth, only to find themselves knocked backwards by a round of buckshot from Nathan's shotgun. The first dog was killed immediately, but the second still survived and lay heavily wounded, only to be put out of its misery by an extra round from Jorge.

"Look!" Samuel shouted and brushed past his two companions. Beyond the man's corpse was the manhole entrance Ben had mentioned and he reached down trying to pry the top off. "Fuck, it's sealed to damn tight!"

"Let me try!" Nathan cut in and tried helping his partner out, but the lid would not budge. "Dammit, it's too fucking tight. We're going to need a crowbar or something to open the damned thing."

"Fuck! Looks like we might have to find another way out. Come on!" Jorge shouted to the others and reentered the hall. Nathan and Samuel followed close behind, but the latter of the two would stop as he spotted what looked like a roll of film next to the dead man's corpse and slipped it into his pocket before joining the others.

The six convicts entered the parking garage and could only stand around in horror as they witnessed the carnage surrounding them. Bodies littered the garage, most of them piled around the parking ramp and riddled with bullets. Several S.W.A.T. officers were among the deceased, all covered in deep gashes like they could have been cut with some sharp blade. More zombies pounded away at the steel gate in front of them and moaned hungrily as the survivors entered the room.

"But what could've done this to a bunch of highly-trained pigs?" Smug asked staring with morbid curiosity at the dead officers.

"I think we're about to find out!" Jacky cried in wide-eyed horror as he noticed the figure scaling the ceiling above them. A skinless creature with exposed brains let out a hoarse gasp and shot its tongue out, striking the junkie in the chest and sending him flying backwards into the concrete wall with enough force to shatter his skull.

"Shit! Fall back!" Jorge cried to the others opening fire upon the beast. Nathan, Samuel and Kristy all joined him in firing upon the creature as they backed themselves nearer towards the cell block entrance. With a powerful leap, the creature extended its claws and drove them through Smug's upper torso, skewering him like an animal going through a wood chipper. Nathan fired a shotgun blast into the creature's chest and knocked it backwards, but didn't stick around to find out if he killed it and joined the others back in the hall they came from.

The four frightened survivors laid against the walls panting heavily and looking towards each other with great uncertainty.

"Now I think I know what's been keeping those pigs away so much the past few days," Kristy gasped looking over to Jorge sitting next to her.

"Just what the fuck were those things?" Samuel shouted at the door as he could still hear the creature's ragged hiss. He looked down to see that he had only one bullet left in his current clip and ejected it to slide in the fresh clip.

"That Bertolucci bastard owes us an explanation!" Nathan declared rising back to his feet and storming off towards the cell block followed closely by the others. The Joker didn't even bother for the gate to fully open as he dashed into the cell block and jumped in front of the reporter's cell.

"Bertolucci! Tell us what the fuck is going on out there! We just encountered more of those undead freaks, found a garage converted into a graveyard and just got attacked by some weird tongue creature that just killed Jacky and Smug! What the fuck is going on out there? Tell us now!" Nathan roared.

"Not to mention that we can't escape through the place you promised 'cause we don't have a fucking manhole opener!" Samuel added.

Ben only stared at him in fright, "Oh no, just like I thought. Zombies aren't the only things running around this station..."

"Tell us who the hell that major corporation is you mentioned and what the hell have they been doing?" Nathan shouted again grabbing onto the bars like a man possessed.

"Look, I already told you, I don't want to say any names. These cells are probably wired and somebody must be listening in on our conversation. If I told you, all of our lives would be in grave danger and I don't want any blood on my hands, innocent or not." Ben solemnly explained and then noticed the roll of film Samuel had in hand. "What's that?" he asked pointing at the film.

"This? Oh, I found this on some R.P.D. guy being torn apart in the kennel!" the Joker explained.

Ben stared at the film with great interest able to make out the written inscription "Tyrant-001, 6/17/98" and instantly his eyes lit up. "Give me that at once! I might have something for you!" he ordered and then walked back to his cot and moved his suit jacket aside to reveal a can of Umbrella, Inc. manufactured first-aid spray. Knowing they would need medical supplies, the gang member gratefully exchanged the film for the first-aid spray.

"Here!" Kristy entered pulling another roll of film from her jacket, "I found this lying on the floor in the garage. Somebody must've dropped it!"

The reporter took the film and eyed it cautiously before a wide grin spread across his features, "Whoa, this is pretty deep right here. I think I might have an especial gift for this find." Ben walked back to his cot and a second later returned with an MP5 submachine gun.

"Whoa! Dude where the hell did you find that and how the hell did you manage to sneak that thing in here without the pigs taking it away from you?" Samuel asked in total surprise as the others looked on in amazement at how an automatic weapon could suddenly find its way into a prison cell.

"Oh I have my methods," he smirked, "A useful tidbit of information I learned from my mentor. As long as you have plenty of secret compartments in your jacket, then you should be able to sneak anything in anywhere."

"Uh huh," Jorge muttered accepting the submachine gun and testing its sights. "So just how the hell are you going to defend yourself if any more of those freaks decide to show up?"

"With this!" Ben proudly displayed a Desert Eagle magnum handgun that made everybody's eyes grow even larger.

"Damn, and to think we could've been outta here days ago!" Nathan retorted staring down at the shotgun he presently carried.

"We don't have much time to sit around and chat. Our only known way out is sealed off, so we'll have to find another way out," Jorge spoke walking towards the main gate.

"We might have to go out through the front door, man. There's probably more of those things crawling around out there and possibly some still living pigs running around as well, but don't worry. We've got guns now and we should be ready to go!" Nathan smirked pumping his shotgun.

"I don't know about that, Biggs. As much as I hate to say it, in a case like this with possibly more of those zombies running around, if there's any surviving pigs out there, then they might be our only hope." Jorge checked over his MP5 one last time and re-entered the hallway.

Author's Notes: As the title suggests, this chapter is meant to be based around the "Desperate Times" scenario from "Outbreak: File 2," although with slight modifications. The in-game scenario where you have to gather the five plates to place in the fountain base so Rita can escape through the secret tunnel has been largely omitted. Instead, I'm going for a more straightforward approach where the survivors will have to shoot their way through to the lower levels. Also, the part with Ben handing the first aid spray and submachine gun to the convicts for giving him the rolls of film is based on in-game events too. Nathan and Samuel are two actual in-game characters from the scenario who share a cell next to Ben, but yet do nothing in the game. I have decided to expand upon their characters and explain why they aren't in RE2 and if you've seen character models for them you'll see they are dressed exactly alike. It's highly unlikely they would be given prison uniforms in a police station right away, so to explain that I made them members of the same street gang, which is also meant to explain why they wound up in jail in the first place. Also I had Joshua Silvers lock himself in the file room to avoid the zombies, that is meant to explain the headless officer you find in the hallway when you first encounter the Licker in RE2. Well I think I've covered everything that needed to be covered so now I'm off. Read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/ 


	24. Chapter 19: Running The Gauntlet

Darkness Arises by E-Z B

Chapter 19: Running The Gauntlet

The screams of the innocents grew even louder and more frantic as the pounding on the side door leading in from the second floor lounge got even harder to the point where it was beginning to create small cracks in the doors sturdy wooden frame. A group of about six or seven zombies was on the opposite side of the door trying to pile its way in and by the feel of things, it was probably growing every few minutes.

"Come on, we have to get something to block this fucking door! These freaks are growing greater in number and we won't be able to hold them back forever!" Quincy Beck cried as he was now applying all of his body weight against the door and was nearly sagging to his knees. A few other officers and civilians had gathered around him and were pressing their shoulders against the door trying to hold it shut with all their might. David, Ben, Mitch and a few other officers stood near the group ready to fire upon the entering zombies if they were to somehow break through.

"Quick, get out of the way now!" an officer called out as he and a few others began pushing some heavy weapon and supply crates towards the side entrance. Thankfully for them all of the crates had been on wheels and were easy to maneuver around the cots and figures who stood in the way. The officers and civilians gathered around the door saw them coming and quickly moved out of the way before the door could be knocked down. The men had to work quickly as the zombies began pounding harder and harder against the door until they stacked the crates high enough. "Okay, that should hold them off for awhile."

Lt. Monroe stared tensely at the rocking doors and looked at his fellow officers from the corner of his eye. He could tell that most of the civilians by now had backed themselves into a corner and were waiting anxiously near the double doors ready to flee if need be. Turning his head to the side with shotgun still raised he spoke, "I'd better be getting some volunteers pretty soon. We don't have much time left!" he called out.

Jake stood quietly among the officers and armed civilians scanning the crowd for any possible volunteers. Everybody stood silent pondering what they possibly could do in a situation like this. At least they all felt motivated to help out in one way or another at a time like this, exactly as it should be when all of your lives are on the line at the same time. The ever present fear however made it difficult for the brave volunteers to find their voice and speak up.

"I'll go!" a voice called out in a proud, courageous tone that stood far above the others. Everybody turned to see David unslinging his assault rifle and motioning towards the double doors leading to the main hall. "Those bastards have murdered too many innocent people under my watch and if I'm going to make it out of here alive, then I'm not going without at least wasting a few extra rotting heads along the way."

"All right. Anybody else coming with me?" Monroe asked searching further for any extra volunteers.

Ben and Mitch both looked to each other and nodded, "Count us in too. We're officers of the law and it's our duty to take out as many of those freaks as we possibly can for the good of all the civilians under our watch." Ben then looked over to David and gave a rueful nod, "Besides Dave, you're my partner-in-crime so we're in this together. No way in hell I'm going to leave you out there alone."

Renee and Parker then stepped forth, "We're in too. I figure there's still a lot of work to be done after we escape from this place so we might as well stick with you guys and get as much done as we possibly can."

"I'll do it!" Eric said rising proudly beside the S.W.A.T. officers, who along with D.J. and a few others looked at him oddly.

"Are you sure, kid?" Sgt. Foreman spoke with visible concern. "You're just a rookie with only a few days of experience. Are you sure you wish to take on such a burden this early in your career?"

"I want to Sarge. I want to prove myself to all of you and show you why I signed up to join the R.P.D. in the first place," he said standing firmly with a look of fierce determination in his youthful eyes.

"Very well then," the sergeant sighed and then looked back to Lt. Monroe.

"Any other takers out there?"

"You had better believe I'm with you L.T." the man clad in hunter gear added coming up behind the lieutenant. "I've practically lost my entire family over the past few days because of those freaks crawling around. If I want payback then I figure you and the R.P.D. are the people to be around."

Quincy Beck, Levi Castor, Sgt. Carlsen, Elliott Edward, Fred Dixon, Rita Wilcox all eventually stepped forth to volunteer their services as well, creating a small army that would allow them to stand a greater chance against the swarming legions of living dead.

"I'll go," Sebastian Ramsey spoke up, catching many and even Jake by surprise. "Please, I've been trained how to handle firearms as well. Just give me a gun and I can provide you with additional backup."

"Good, we need all the help we can get. Somebody get him a gun!" Monroe ordered and within seconds Officer Sears presented him a Browning HP.

If Sebastian Ramsey was going to clear a path for the other survivors, then Jake would be going as well. Dr. Ramsey knew his target personally and if interrogated further, could offer possible leads to William Birkin's whereabouts. Right now he wanted to keep a close eye on the young researcher and keep him alive for as long as he needed him. Once Birkin was out of the picture then it would be completely under his discretion what happens to the doctor.

"Count me in," Jake said furrowing his brow, "Those rotting bastards ruined my vacation and have tried to kill me countless times during my stay. I'd be happy to pop a few extra heads before I get out of here, help all of you out while I'm at it."

"Okay, anybody else tagging along?" Lt. Monroe asked making one final search for volunteers.

"I wanna go too," Samantha called out, looking slightly towards David.

"What?" Monroe asked in near disbelief looking over to Foreman and then Marvin. "Young lady, are you serious? It's dangerous out there and I do not wish to throw an untrained civilian into harm's way."

"I can fight, sir. Honest! My uncle has shown me how to fire a gun before. It was years ago, but I'm sure I still remember everything he taught me. Give me a gun and I can fight with you too. I have a score to settle with those creeps too after they killed a bunch of my classmates."

David quickly walked over to the young woman and placed his hand on her shoulder, "Samantha, are you absolutely sure you'd want to do this? Those zombies aren't the only things running around out there and I don't want you to get hurt. I understand your desire to settle the score with those freaks as do I, but you have nowhere near the training or combat experience as the rest of the officers around here. It's the truth and I'm only saying this out of concern for your own safety."

Before the young woman could reply, she turned to find Jake pushing a Beretta towards her with two spare clips in his other hand, "Here take it. A Beretta 9mm., should be a small enough gun for you to handle."

"Jake, what are you doing?" David asked getting in his face, "She's a civilian who unlike you has little or no combat training. I do not want to throw her into harm's way. Remember those skinless tongue freaks we encountered before we came here? Do you seriously think she could handle one of those things in battle? What about those dogs or those giant bugs? Look I'm trying to be logical here. I'm only saying this out of concern for her safety."

The career criminal stood unfazed by the officer's sudden movement. "She's willing to fight, David. I say you should let her tag along if she's willing since you and your boys seem to be pretty strapped for people right now. If you're going to let an Umbrella pencil pusher over there tag along, then I don't see any reason you shouldn't let her come with us."

"She's staying," David replied plainly. "Three civilians tagging along is enough. If something happens to her then I don't want another civilian's death on my conscience and I'm sure Lt. Monroe doesn't either."

"He's right," Lt. Monroe added suddenly appearing next to his subordinate, "She is going to stay here where it is safe." His expression darkened as he faced Samantha, "And there will be no complaints. My word is final around here."

Samantha gulped and stood bewildered in the lieutenant's presence, her expression only softening when he turned away from her. Jake stood next to her as she faced him and he looked down to her from his higher vantage point, "Sorry ma'am, looks like they're pretty adamant about only letting a select few come along. You can keep the gun though, you're going to need it for later on. I've got another one on me, a magnum revolver, a sword, this here submachine gun and plenty of ammo left over."

"Thank you," she sheepishly replied and stepped back towards Donald and D.J.

"All right everybody, let's get moving!" Lt. Monroe called out, "Marvin, I'm leaving you in charge while we're away. Any major decisions are under your control until then!"

Aaron Groening, David Ford, D.J. Horner, George Scott, Amber Bernstein, Ellen Sears, Donald and a few other officers would remain behind in the library with Marvin to watch the civilians while the others would attempt to run the gauntlet in order to clear a safe, suitable path to the station's basement level, where their last potential escape routes were located.

"All right, Dallas and Cannon take point! Stand guard while we descend. Wade, I want you down first. You're going to open the doors for us. Wilcox, I want you to stand guard at the main desk until we call you. Beck, Castor, you will both guard the west wing entrance and make sure nothing comes through. Lee, I want you guarding the east wing entrance. The rest of you will follow Sgt. Foreman and I as we perform a sweep through the main hall that will take us into the homicide division offices. From there, we go through the hallway that will lead us to the basement entrance. Be careful though as that hall contains plenty of windows and thus, more possible entrance points for those freaks to come storming in. We then sweep the main basement corridor and then I'll need some brave volunteers to guard the car park while we make our way to the kennels. Hopefully we'll be good enough to call for the others then."

Ben ran over and pressed the button lowering the emergency ladder once again to the lower level. As ordered, Sgt. Foreman was first down followed by Rita, who both ran for the reception desk. Beck, Castor and Lee soon followed, David was next and then so forth before Mitch was the last to descend. A few of the officers immediately surrounded the east wing entrance with guns raised and waited anxiously for the sergeant to open the doors.

"Get ready!" he called out and then looked around to see everybody stood in position. With a swipe of his card and an electronic click the doors were again opened.

"Go!" Lt. Monroe cried and with a mighty kick Ben knocked the door open.

Immediately the officers were greeted by another wave of undead who tried to pile out towards them with arms stretched. The growling zombies were knocked backwards by the salvo of hot lead fired in their direction and were thrown backwards long enough to clear an opening for the brave souls running the gauntlet. "Everybody through now!" Monroe barked and then turned to Parker, "Lee, get ready, we're about to close this door behind us. Remember nobody is to be allowed through this door and nothing except us should be allowed out into the hall!" The rookie nodded and then making sure everybody was through, the lieutenant pulled the door shut behind him.

"Shit, there must be hundreds of these things inside already!" Fred shouted above the moans as he fired into a crowd of approaching zombies. Officer Edward and Sgt. Carlsen joined in hoping to keep the zombies away from the east wing office entrance long enough while the others focused on eliminating the rest of the zombies in the hall.

The H&K MP5 submachine gun flashed repeatedly in Jake's grip, followed by the blood and gray matter exploding out the back of a zombie's head from the point blank range of the shots. There was no time to rest as a zombie in a bloody black t-shirt and torn blue jeans stumbled towards him and slashed through the air just inches ahead of him. Jake was quick to respond firing again, creating two fresh openings in the creature's head and sending it falling backwards onto one of its undead brethren. Beside the career criminal, David's rifle chattered and two more ashen-faced figures in street clothes collapsed to the stained tile floor. The two men along with Ben, Mitch and Renee stood guard while the other officers entered the side office and the sound of gunfire indicated they had encountered more resistance inside. The party of five moved around the corner to find more zombies shambling down from the side corridor and instantly opened fire before they could move any further. During the skirmish Jake picked off an overweight zombie in a cop's uniform, the dead man's bulky form then fell against the door and created another wedge that could buy them some extra time.

"Okay, that should be those freaks for now," Mitch spoke nudging a nearby corpse with his boot. Jake and the other officers only focused on the shaking door down the corridor where the blocked door vibrated from the repeated strikes. Underlying fear seeped into their systems as they had all seen what a large enough group of zombies could bring down when they piled against a blocked off surface. Mitch understood their fear and wanted to leave too, but he also wanted to explore every possible nook and cranny for survivors and noticed the restrooms located near the vending machines.

"The restrooms, there might be people in there!" the S.W.A.T. officer blurted out and then took a position near the men's room door, "David, come with me. The rest of you stay put. Once we're out then Renee and Jake search the women's room." David took a position across from Mitch and with a nod, they both sped into the bathroom. Metallic clanging came from inside as the two men kicked the doors open and then it stood silent. A few minutes later both officers emerged with their heads lowered.

"Find anything?" Ben asked as he observed the behavior of his colleagues. 

Both men slowly looked up with haunted looks in their eyes. "We found Wes Minton, the poor bastard shot himself. All of this crap must've been too much for the guy to take," David replied shaking his head while looking down at a small red pocketbook he slid into one of his back pockets.

"A good man Minton was, dedicated officer and single parent, now all this crap had to happen and take that all away from him," Mitch sighed. The four officers wanted to bow their head in remembrance of a fallen colleague, but the imminent threat of the encroaching zombies threw a wrench in those plans and Jake looked over to Officer Montoya, who nodded back ready to follow the plan set forth by Mitch and they both positioned themselves on each side of the women's room door. With a nod they made their way in.

Aside from a few dents in the stall doors, everything in the small room looked largely untouched as if the undead had completely ignored this room altogether. "Looks fine to me..." the female officer spoke, but was cut off as she spotted a large hole towards the back corner of the ceiling. From what she had learned over the past few days, Renee Montoya had learned that the presence of a hole located where it shouldn't be almost always meant trouble.

"Oh god, come on we have to-" Renee attempted to run for the exit, only to be snatched around her petite waist by another long tongue and dragged backwards.

"Oh shit, Renee!" Jake called out raising his MP5, but refrained from firing out of possibly hitting the officer. The career criminal's cry brought the three other officers rushing in and nearly bowling him over. Unfortunately they were too late as the woman was already pulled into the darkness by her unseen attacker and all they heard were the sounds of flesh tearing and bones breaking.

"Renee!" David screamed firing towards the hole in the ceiling. Mitch and Ben stood behind him firing away, all three of them firing until their clips ran dry. Their vain effort was only rewarded by the woman's broken shotgun falling from the hole, drenched in blood. Another name had now been added to the innumerable list of both R.P.D. and civilian casualties, names of those who had been close to the remaining officers present.

"No!" David bellowed and with a rapid lunge smashed a wall-mounted towel dispenser into tiny chunks. A string of profanities followed as the enraged officer struck the walls with enough force to bring the entire building down from the inside. The man had lost another close friend from the force who had ranked up there with Grant Bronsky and Lyndon Murray in importance and all he could see was not a wall in front of him, but the warped, narrow face of a Licker and he could only picture striking the beast in its face and punching out every single one of its razor-sharp teeth. He felt almost no pain as his heavy combat gloves combined with the raging adrenaline pumping through his system seemed to dampen any pain that could come from striking the wall.

Jake stood back looking on grim-faced. He said nothing but merely ran a hand over his submachine gun and thought of how the gun had become one of his closest companions over the past few hours and had dropped many a zombie with it, sure that he would drop plenty more as he continued his search for Birkin. The two other officers stood near their grieving friend saying nothing as well. Mitch removed his helmet and ran his fingers through the unkempt black locks covering his skull, looking as if he wanted to tear out every last strand. Ben fell back against the wall behind him with shoulders trembling, looking like he was about to slink down to the floor. 

More moans and gunfire came from the hall and the young career criminal entered to find Sgt. Neil Carlsen and Elliott Edward firing away at more zombies who had now managed to break in from the adjoining hall. "We've got the office area cleared, get the others and let's get moving!" Edward shouted as he fired away with a customized Beretta 9mm. burst handgun. Sgt. Carlsen nodded in emphasis as he fired away next to her with his Remington shotgun. Zombies were still coming towards them, although hampered by the corpses they tripped over, still proving their constant threat to the survivors if not dealt with properly.

Jake and the three S.W.A.T. officers entered the east wing foot patrol offices, which had now been littered by even more corpses. The career criminal and maybe even most of the officers present questioned whether or not they would ever again become accustomed to the sight of a ground not covered in dead bodies and Jake himself questioned whether or not he would even remember what fresh air smelled like if he made it out of here alive.

Eric, Sgt. Foreman and Sebastian all stood around panting heavily and staring down at the corpses around them to make sure none of them would rise up again to attack. In a back hallway the career criminal spotted Lt. Monroe staring intently through the door of and cursing repeatedly under his breath until he was alerted by the presence of Jake and the three officers entering the office followed closely by Carlsen and Edward.

"McGraw, Cannon, Dallas where's Montoya?" the worried lieutenant asked seeing that only the three S.W.A.T. officers and their civilian counterpart had come in without the female officer. He clutched his shotgun protectively expecting to hear bad news.

"She's dead," David replied in a hollow, unfeeling tone, "You can add Wes Minton to the list of casualties too. Cannon and I found him, or what was left of him..." the man replied placing a hand on the back pocket which held the pocketbook he had collected from the dead officer.

The aging lieutenant lowered his head and said nothing trying to compose himself and waited a few minutes before he finally worked up the nerve to speak. "I just sent Dixon and that hunter guy Steve out to investigate the emergency stairwell. Some of those damned crows pecked Dixon to death and I have no idea what happened to Steve..." the man spoke hurriedly so he could get all of the words out before the images of Fred Dixon's hasty, painful death could haunt him much longer.

"Fuck, the deaths around here just won't end..." Eric said nervously backing himself into a darkened corner. The rookie was surprised with himself for actually being able to comprehend what was going on around him rather than losing his marbles and cowering away forever. At the same time, the urge to prove himself to his superiors burned brightly and he kept saying to himself over and over that's why he came here. The cautious voice still fought for supremacy and was asking him if was really worth it to fight the living dead to do so, but he had come this far and now he was in it just as much as everybody else.

"Nothing will end until we get out of this place," Jake added to the surprise of many, who assumed him to be one of those antisocial types who only spoke when spoken to, then again this time it would be necessary when he was surrounded by cops. The career criminal sat on a desk next to another that had a large shooting trophy resting proudly for everybody to see. It almost surprised him when David approached the desk and began typing in the security code on a panel that would permit access to the drawers. He then examined the desk more clearly and saw that it belonged to a "Kevin Ryman."

Kevin Ryman, the officer who had been with him and the others at J's Bar when the outbreak began just two days ago. A truly courageous man he seemed like who had led most of the way while him and the others were fighting desperately for their survival and had been the one who detonated the bomb on Main St. that took out that entire parade of undead that had been fast approaching. The last he had seen the man or any of the other survivors had been when they were riding in the back of the police van together. After plowing through a wave of zombies, the van had crashed into the back of a semi truck and the driver was severely injured. George and Cindy had been attempting to treat the injured driver when an eight foot tall monstrosity appeared from above and blew up the van with a rocket launcher. The resulting flames had forced the survivors to split up, leaving Jake all by himself to complete the quest that had brought him to Raccoon City in the first place. The fate of Kevin and the other survivors was a complete mystery at the moment, but there was something at the back of his mind telling him that they might have been spread out all around the city still fighting for their survival and trying to find a way out.

The career criminal had recalled David mentioning something about being a close personal friend of Kevin's and watched as the S.W.A.T. officer had successfully typed in the code and began rummaging through his friend's drawer. Using the utmost consideration David dug through the drawer sifting through papers and other assorted objects before he let out a "Yes!"

From underneath a short stack of notebooks David produced a powerful 50-caliber Desert Eagle magnum handgun and tested the weight and sights of the gun before delving further and pulling out two clips for the mighty gun. "Thank you Kevin!" he mused while staring admirably at the gun he held in his gloved hands. Twirling the gun around his finger like a Wild Western gunfighter he slipped it into a side holster and then took note of Jake watching him. "Officer Ryman is a good friend of mine. He told me the code for his desk and that if I ever got into a serious mess without him there to back me up that there would be a powerful motherfucking gun waiting for me. Turns out he was right, now I just pray that he's still alive so I'll be able to thank him."

"I hope so too," Jake said standing up and quickly going over small five page document he found on a nearby desk that looked like it had been written by Marvin. Around him the other officers and Sebastian searched the room, gathering whatever ammo and healing items they could find before continuing their trek. So far they had been fortunate enough to happen across enough ammo and first-aid equipment for each man onboard, stuff that could have potentially saved the lives of other officers, but now it was too late and they had to do what could be done to protect the still-living officers.

Everybody stopped what they were doing as Lt. Monroe re-entered the office, sliding a key with a heart-shaped end back into his pocket, "All right, I've opened the door to the hallway that will eventually take us down to the basement level. Be on the alert, I heard a few moans so we might have another fight on our hands." The lieutenant pulled some shells out of his pocket and thumbed them into the chamber and then slid a can of first-aid spray into a side pocket. "Carlsen and Edward, stay here and guard the office. We didn't finish off all of those freaks out in the hall and I don't know if they'll be able to come through here or not. Stay here and if any of them make it through, let them have it. The rest of you come with me now."

Repeating the same process they had followed many times throughout the past few days, the officers positioned themselves around the door with Jake and Sebastian standing at the very back. The criminal looked over to the Umbrella researcher, who was sweating profusely and almost looked like the gun he held would slip from his clammy hands if fired again. Dr. Ramsey had come this far and it was a testament that maybe some of the company whitecoats weren't the pushovers he thought they would be. Jake knew that Umbrella was the home of some shady characters who probably were not as weak as they looked, but this man seemed to be genuinely fearful of everything around him and really would not know what to do if he were to be left alone. The young researcher also served as a testament that maybe not everybody involved with the company was a greedy, deceitful backstabber motivated by wealth and self-preservation, but that there were innocent bystanders involved who had either been tricked into running with the wrong crowd or knew of the company's true motives, but were threatened into remaining silent at the expense of a loved one's welfare. He would find out sooner or later in the hunt for the rogue scientist called William Birkin.

With a monstrous snap kick, Ben sent the door flying open and right away knocked over a zombie who had been loitering nearby. Conserving precious ammunition, the big man brought his boot down and snapped the undead man's neck before it could rise again. Moans followed as the other zombies present had been alerted by the crack and began shuffling towards the survivors.

Ben and Sgt. Foreman were at the front of the group and gunned down several of the zombies until their clips ran dry and they were forced to retreat. Lt. Monroe quickly stepped up and dispatched small groups with his shotgun with David and Jake there to back him up. Several windows lining the walls had been smashed and the zombies poured through and a quickening pace that was becoming too much for the officers to keep up with what ammunition they did carry and soon they would overrun the hallway.

Jake too had been getting dangerously low on his submachine gun ammo fighting all the zombies and he would soon be forced to use his sidearms as a last resort. It was then through the mass of zombies he would spot something that could possibly turn the tide in favor of the survivors.

At the end of the hallway near the flight of stairs was a gray metal box with its cover hanging open. Green and red buttons with open and close written on them were out in plain sight. Briefly stealing a glance upward, he noticed the red cord attached to the box and the wires that hung over the windows. Whatever that box did, it was probably for controlling shutters used as a defense mechanism and he would have to get to it fast. However, he was running low on ammo for his submachine gun and could not afford to switch weapons in the middle of combat, so he would have to pull out a weapon he had not used in quite a while.

Pulling one of his trenchcoat flaps aside, Jake gripped the wooden handle and in one fluid motion withdrew the katana sword he had stolen from the antique shop just days before. He smiled as the blade glistened in the light above and turned to the others, "Watch my back, I'm gonna get those shutters down!" With a wave of his blade he began his advance.

"Jake, no it's suicide!" Sgt. Foreman called out, but was held back by David, who had seen what Jake could do with a sword in hand and felt confidence in the man's abilities.

"Time to send you back to Hell," Jake Cavanaugh nodded to a bald zombie in front of him who took a swipe as soon as the criminal had come within three feet of him. With an upward swing, the zombie's head was sent flying backwards and its now headless body collapsed against the side wall. Another zombie stepped in the man's path and it too fell to a similar fate. Sidestepping another freshly-decapitated victim, Jake leapt into the air and performed a spinning roundhouse kick that knocked one zombie back impaling it on a large shard of glass and then leapt forward with blade extended, the tip driving through the face of a short female zombie who had been standing nearby.

The R.P.D. officers stood back in sheer amazement as they watched the mysterious civilian before them cut through the ravenous zombies with such ease they thought was impossible. "Damn this guy's good!" Eric gasped in awe at the man's technique and speed. For the rookie cop, the sight before him was something he had only seen in the movies, but here he was now seeing it in real life. Then again he had to remind himself that he thought zombies only existed in movies until now.

Spinning his entire body in a 360 degree motion, Jake managed to hack the heads off of three zombies at once and looked back to see that he was just a few feet away from the metal box that could lower the metallic sheets and buy the officers a lot of time as they struggled to get out of the station. With a powerful snap kick, Jake sent another zombie flying backwards connecting with the railing around the stairs, snapping its neck upon impact. Another stood in front of him and he stabbed the walking corpse in the throat before performing a spinning kick that sent another zombie flying out through one of the windows and knocking over a few others that had been trying to pile in at once. More zombies were entering through the smashed open windows as the career criminal made his way towards the shutter control panel, but he wasn't letting them around him without a fight. Right now he was too ornery to die and was determined to take his frustrations out on the creatures standing before him.

A cold, clammy hand grabbed the criminal from behind as he impaled another zombie, but Jake had been quicker grabbing the zombie's wrist and then spinning his entire body around, smashing the cadaver face-first into the wall behind him. Bringing his foot up for a back thrust kick, he knocked another zombie backwards into two more and then grabbed another by the shoulders and spun himself around the wiry man's body, grabbing its rotting neck and twisting it with relative ease. Jake looked back again and saw that he was just inches away from the shutter box and picked up the dead man's body and with a mighty heave tossed it directly into some of its approaching undead comrades.

The box now directly in front of him, Jake smothered the red button with an open handed slap forcing as much strength as he could. A welcome electronic hum followed and he watched as the metallic sheets lowered themselves over the shattered windows, taking bits of rotting flesh as they clamped down on zombies still trying to climb through the windows. Clanking sounds now filled the air as the zombies outside pounded away at the lowered sheets still trying to get inside. No sooner had the career criminal begun panting from exhaustion when he felt the swift breeze of a metallic object sailing past his head followed by a wet stabbing noise.

Jake looked over his shoulder to find a tall zombie standing over him with a survival knife embedded between its eyes rooted to where it stood before it finally fell over to the crimson-stained floor. He turned to see David flashing him a quick thumbs up before he and the others raised their weapons to take down the remaining zombies that had snaked in behind him. The career criminal smiled and took a quick breather reclining against the nearest wall as some of the victorious officers approached him.

"Dude, that was some fucking amazing swordsmanship back there!" Eric shouted mimicking slashing movements with his hands. "You so have to teach me how to do that when we get out of here!"

"Yeah, I didn't know those freaks could be dealt with so easily until now," Ben added patting the exhausted man on the shoulder.

"You did real good. You saved us a lot of grief and a lot of ammo," David nodded with approval standing over the sitting criminal.

"I wish we would have found you a lot sooner. You could have helped us save plenty of more lives out there," Mitch spoke from behind his co-workers.

"Are you all right? Will you be able to go on?" Lt. Monroe asked kneeling down next to Jake as he approached.

Jake was about to reply until his ears perked up at the sound of footsteps racing towards the stairs nearby. "Shhh!" he raised his hand telling the others to be quiet and pulled out his Beretta. The footsteps grew louder and the others turned around facing the stairs with weapons drawn. Judging by the sound, there were about two or three people coming and the speed told him that they must be human as zombies could only shuffle and not run like an ordinary human.

The officers waited intently, all silently praying that they were hearing the footsteps of some surviving colleagues or some innocent civilians who had managed to escape from the overridden streets. The footsteps drew closer and were now accompanied by heavy panting and muffled curses. From out of the darkness three figures raced up the stairs nearly knocking the officers over like bowling pins, "Get the hell outta our way!"

Behind the three figures, two rotting dogs appeared and practically leapt up the entire stairwell to get at their targets. Lt. Monroe was ready for them and fired a blast that caught one in mid-air, sending it flying backwards down the flight of stairs. The second dog had made it further and was taken down by the combined efforts of Ben and Mitch, reducing its rotting carcass to a brick of Swiss cheese.

Lt. Monroe took a while to recover after the surprise attack and then turned to face the three individuals who had escaped from the dogs. "What the hell?" was all he could say.

The veteran lieutenant knew the three people who stood before him very well from previous encounters. The first man was of Hispanic descent who stood slightly under six feet tall with with his black hair trimmed into a buzzcut and a small matching goatee and mustache upon his face. He wore a black leather jacket with a white Rook chess piece on it, tan cargo pants, and black and white sneakers. He was Jorge Ruiz, better known on the streets as "El Lobo," a prominent member of the Rooks street gang wanted for a number of crimes and was most recently arrested for a disturbance outside a local grocery store. The second man was a slightly taller Caucasian with his head shaved. He wore a light blue outfit and white sneakers and carried a customized Remington shotgun in hand. This man was Nathan Biggs, son of a prominent Raccoon family who now ran with a rival street gang known as The Jokers and was brought in after a string of numerous offenses. The last person was a heavily made-up woman in her early thirties with long red hair and dressed in provocative street clothes. She was Kristina Oglavich, better known on the streets as "Kristy Klamp," wanted for numerous counts of prostitution, drug dealing and assault. All of them were being held down in the cell block area at the time of the outbreak and had probably found a way to escape because of it.

"What the hell are you people doing out of your cells?" Lt. Monroe angrily demanded and drew his shotgun making them jump back in terror.

"Trying to survive, what the hell does it look like?" Biggs replied raising his hand to signal that he meant no harm. The two other escaped criminals stood beside him nodding.

"Some sick-looking pig came down and tried to eat us, but we broke out and now we're here," she shouted back, but suddenly stopped and grew pale as she revealed they had just killed one of their fellow officers.

"Those zombies aren't the only things down there too, officer." Jorge added motioning towards the darkness the zombified dogs had leapt from.

"Yeah, we encountered some skinless lizard freaks with long ass tongues that killed a bunch of your boys and then we found some of your zombie mutts who just tore up one of my buddies down there!" Nathan half-growled the last part as he remembered those mutated dogs they encountered upon entering the basement corridor and what they had done to Samuel.

Lt. Monroe looked back to Sgt. Foreman who indicated he might be thinking the same thoughts held by the lieutenant. "All right, we'll deal with you three later. For now, get to the main hall. We've got men guarding the entrances and other survivors hidden in the library. We're gonna try to secure the lower level for evacuation and you might be able to back us up with those weapons you carry when the time comes to run." The convicts nodded and then made their way towards the main hall. The higher-ups then returned their attention to the others traveling with them, "Come on, let's secure that basement!"

David, Ben and Mitch took lead this time, moving in a three man block that would be impossible to pass given the width of the hall. The corridor was poorly-lit aside from a few flickering wall-mounted lights that threatened to go at any minute and the eerie red glow of an exit sign pointed in the direction of the stairwell. Light from the troopers' weapons cut narrow swathes through the shadows creeping along the murky gray walls. Moving further towards the T-intersection at the end of the hall, Ben's light glinted off of something metal. Straining his eyes further, Jake looked over the officer's shoulder and spotted what looked like a customized Colt .45 automatic handgun laying there abandoned, perhaps it had been the gun carried by the buddy of Nathan's who had been torn apart by the demonic dogs. "Must be empty if it was abandoned like that," Mitch said and moved further down the hall until he heard more footsteps.

"Shhh! Do you hear that?" the S.W.A.T. trooper whispered to the others. The light footsteps tapped on the concrete repeatedly until a silhouette appeared from around the corner, one of the dogs the escapees had mentioned.

David did not even wait for the animal to let out its predatory growl and fired a round catching the zombified canine in the neck. The gunshot caught the attention of other nearby hounds and within seconds two more undead canines appeared from around the corner, only to befall the same fate as their brother before them. A paranoid Eric approached the downed animals and added extra bullets to their skulls making sure they were completely dead.

"Shit, Lt. Monroe, Sgt. Foreman, get over here!" Ben called out. The two superior officers rounded the corner where they found the remains of five additional S.W.A.T. troopers strewn about the hall, three bearing the deep gashes left behind from the Lickers and the other two having been torn apart by the mutated dogs. Also present was the corpse of an African-American male dressed exactly like Nathan, whom they had assumed was probably his friend he mentioned upstairs.

"Dear lord!" Sgt. Foreman grimaced at the sight of his very men laying dead before him. He couldn't believe that the corpses laying before him had just days before been his fellow officers fighting alongside him for the greater good and now here they laid broken before him, killed by unspeakable monstrosities. He wanted to find who was responsible for this and if he couldn't sentence them to death, then he at least wanted to make sure that they were convicted of their crimes against humanity and thrown into the nearest jail for the rest of their lives.

Jake stood at the back of the group with Sebastian and Eric looking on in grim silence as the S.W.A.T. officers surveyed their dead colleagues. The four men along with Parker Lee were probably all that remained of the R.P.D.'s S.W.A.T. team and by now the pressure to back up their uniformed colleagues was really taking its toll on them physically and mentally and they knew it could very well be them joining their dead colleagues anytime. It only heightened their resolve to get out of Raccoon by any means necessary.

"Huh?" The clicking of sharp talons on a hard surface came from the end of the darkened corridor and the career criminal whirled around shining his light attachment around every inch that he could. The S.W.A.T. troopers noticed his sharp movement and began scanning the area for any movement as well. "Come on out you ugly bastard," he muttered under his breath as he made tiny baby steps toward the source of the noise without straying too far from the group. More clicking followed and he moved his gun back and forth frantically straining his ears for the exact location of the noise hoping to get the first shot in. A ragged rasp sounded followed by the dripping of saliva striking the concrete, it was then that Jake finally captured some movement in his path and pulled the trigger.

The Licker shrieked and leapt around to dodge the bullets fired in its direction, this one already had a few encounters with humans and knew of the destructive capabilities presented by their firearms, showing it had some concept of strategy within its primitive thinking mind and the human who reeked of death and vengeance would be the first to fall.

A once darkened hallway was now illuminated by the repeated muzzle flashes of firearms being discharged simultaneously as the officers fought to quickly eliminate the beast hovering above them, but it was persistent and managed to avoid their shots with ease. Jake fired at the ceiling until he finally used up what was left of his MP5 ammo and tried to reach down for his magnum revolver when the creature made its move. Screeching its murderous intent, the monster leapt towards him with a downward slash, which he barely managed to roll underneath and finally pulled out his magnum to fire, but the officers were in the way and it was there the creature would finally taste some blood.

Sensing a living human in front of it, the Licker shot its tongue out, catching a surprised Sgt. Foreman in his thigh and sending him to the ground yelping in pain.

"Sarge!" Mitch cried and raised his gun to fire, but the Licker quickly whipped its head around, knocking the gun across the hall. Sebastian appeared next to the trooper and raised his gun to fire, but could do nothing as the pistol jammed. He could only stare in horror as the creature roared and leapt into the air.

In the blink of an eye, the Licker slashed both its claws diagonally in the formation of an "X" and took both men down before David could pull out his newly-acquired Desert Eagle and fire a round into the monster's forehead.

"Ben, Eric help Sarge out!" David called out to his two fellow officers completely ignoring the fact that Lt. Monroe, who outranked him, was present and ran over to where Mitchell Cannon had fallen and quickly turned the fallen officer over.

"Mitch! Speak to me!" he screamed at the dying man as he cradled the man in his arms. All he got was a ragged gasp similar to what the Lickers made and then he closed his eyes forever. As if in a trance, David slowly let the man's corpse fall to the ground and then let out another roar to shake the building's foundation. Another close friend had perished at the hands of these creatures and he mentally cursed himself repeatedly for not acting quickly enough. Lt. Monroe was quick to console the grieving officer, placing a hand on his shoulder and speaking gently to the man.

Jake at the moment was more interested in the well-being of the Umbrella researcher and knelt down beside Sebastian, who had somehow managed to roll onto his side and reached weakly towards him. Three deep gashes ran across his chest and were gushing blood at an alarming rate, turning most of his upper garments into the same shade of crimson. Blood rolled out of the corners of his mouth and he spat out more rolling his head to the side. The career criminal placed his hand beneath the doctor's head and held him up so he wouldn't choke to death. Reaching into one of his pockets he pulled out a can of first-aid spray applying it to the man's wounds.

"Thank...you..." the wounded researcher rasped clutching onto his sleeve as he was stung by the spray.

"No problem, Sebastian. You did good helping us out back there," he said with an encouraging smile tearing a large piece of fabric from Sebastian's labcoat and pressing the wadded up material against his bleeding gashes. "You'll be okay. Just hang in there and we'll get you out of here."

"Bullshit..." he gasped coughing out some more blood. His outburst was halted as soon as it began and he quieted down looking up to Jake with a fearful stare. "Listen..." he whispered and motioned for the criminal to lean in closer, "...that thing caught me...pretty bad. I don't know...if I'm going...to make it...out. Even if...I make it out...I don't know...if I'd live...much longer..."

"What do you mean?" he asked staring into the researcher's watery blue eyes. This man was possibly wounded mortally and the odds were very high that even if he did survive these wounds that he would eventually die from something else for his inability to defend himself. If Jake wanted answers he would have to get them now. "Is there something else out there I should know about?"

"Umbrella..." he muttered blinking rapidly, "...the company...I work for..."

"Yes, what about them?" Jake asked hoping that he might be finally on the verge of getting some answers.

"If they know...I made it out...they...they'll...hunt me down...and...kill me..." he gagged before breaking off into a coughing fit.

"Why?" Maybe Jake would get some more answers on the company's dark and dirty little dealings, maybe a greater insight into the company's true cut-throat nature they manage to hide from the public. "Tell me."

Sebastian remained silent and tried to look around as if somebody were watching him from the shadows and then spoke, "I know too much...about what...really happens...behind closed doors..." He gulped heavily as he knew he was about to disclose classified information to a seemingly ordinary civilian. "They do illegal research..." he choked out, "...biological weapons. They experiment...on...living things!"

Jake gasped aloud acting like this was brand new shocking news to him, "Really? What do they experiment with?"

"Viruses...man-made viruses..." was all the researcher replied.

"For what?"

"Warfare...those greedy bastards. They only care...about making a damned big buck...they want...to sell them...to the highest...bidder! I found out...and wanted to go...to the...authorities...but they have...contacts all over...bribing politicians. None of them...could help me...not even the police. There could be a spy...in the building as I speak...looking for me. I can't trust them cops...only you..." he winked painfully to Jake and shook his wrist a little until the same black book with the Umbrella symbol he had seen earlier fell out. "My diary...take it! It will tell you...everything...you need to know...about their dealings...but please...don't tell the others. It will endanger...them."

It was indeed the man's diary, finally he had another break in his search for answers, something that could give him a look at the inner workings of an Umbrella facility concerning security measures, figures of interest and more importantly possible leads on Birkin. This was an item of great importance that he would have to guard with his own life at all costs.

"Please, I know I'm not going to make it...either way. Just take it and get it...to whoever you can. This...must get out...so those...bastards can pay..." Sebastian rasped wanting to get out as much as he could before he passed on.

"What about Birkin?" Jake asked gripping the researcher's shoulders tighter indicating that he was serious about learning of the man's whereabouts. "Tell me where I can find him."

The young researcher's face was white as snow and the sweat beaded across his forehead joining together in one large puddle covering his face. Sebastian let out a shuddering sigh as he looked up into the other man's eyes knowing that he wanted sensitive information only he could provide, stuff that could endanger the man's life as he knew it. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes, for his sake tell me where he is so I can find him!"

Sebastian swallowed again and took a couple deep breaths before he spoke, "He should be at the chemical plant...near the city limits. There...is another way...through the sewers...I don't know where...but it's close. I was...never told...where it was. Through the sewers...for sure. The...waste disposal plant...behind here...could be a possible lead...you would need."

"How do I get inside?"

"A medal...no...two medals...I don't know who...carries them...only higher-ups..." the researcher added before another crippling pain shot through his chest and began thrashing on the floor nearly hitting Jake.

"Hey, somebody get this man some hemostatic pills if you have any!" Jake called to the officers who were busy tending to the injured S.W.A.T. sergeant, "He's bleeding pretty bad, we're losing him fast." It was then that the dying researcher seized hold of Jake's wrist with one hand and his head with the other, forcing him to once more look into the doctor's eyes.

"No! I'll only slow you down!" he screamed and then quieted down again, "Let me die here...peacefully. I know my time...is up...let me die here...quietly and not...by the hands...of those bastards. Just...tell whoever you can...stop them..."

The conversation was interrupted by Eric offering hemostatic pills to Jake, "Here! We've got some hemostat pills left over! Give them to him quick!"

"It's too late," Jake replied slowly lowering the researcher's head and standing back up, "He's already dead. I did everything for him that I could. All we can do now is leave him in peace." He replied pushing the rookie officer's hand back telling him to keep the pills, "You'll need those more than he does now." Knowing it could help the wounded sergeant, he also gave the man his can of first-aid spray. In an Umbrella-run metropolis like Raccoon, he was certain he would find plenty more to use in a situation like this.

Lt. Monroe scooped up Mitch's MP5, checked it over and then offered it to Eric. "Ever handle one of these before, kid?"

"Never have before now," the rookie replied, looking the submachine gun over and pulling the bolt back, "but after today I think my learning curve has improved dramatically."

David and Ben scooped up the wounded sergeant holding him underneath his arms and moved him around the corner past the armory and waited patiently in front of the car park entrance, "All we need to worry about right now is getting him out of here." Ben spoke gesturing towards Sgt. Foreman.

"His leg wound looks too severe to send him down through the sewers. It's not much of a safer option for a wounded man, but we're going to put him in the van and he can ride with us to the barricades." Lt. Monroe said knowing that it would be near impossible to get his friend down a ladder and take too much time to drag him through the sewers. Plus, he could die from infection if the contaminated water were to seep into his open wounds.

"Heh, go ahead I don't give a damn!" Sgt. Foreman grunted trying to avoid applying pressure to his injured leg, "In this state I'm in, definitely not a time to be wading around in someone else's shit right now."

"Good to hear it," Monroe smiled lightly patting his friend on the shoulder and then turned his attention to the car park entrance and raised his shotgun. "All right, now we secure the parking lot. After that, you search the hallway leading to the kennels. We need that entrance secured for the others, pronto." The officers nodded to their superior and Jake and Eric both took positions in front of the troopers supporting the injured sergeant. Deciding to take a more cautious approach this time, the lieutenant slowly turned the handle and listened for any sounds before he threw the door open and was nearly knocked backwards by the overwhelming stench of decay.

"Fucking terrific! I think we now know what just happened to the rest of Shepherd's team." Ben grunted in disgust noticing more S.W.A.T. corpses among the bodies lying in the garage.

Henry Monroe barely managed to ignore the presence of the bodies long enough to spot the paddy wagon located near the cell block entrance and spot a whimpering Harry Muntz inside, probably still cowering from whatever had killed all of the other officers.

"Muntz! Muntz, you can come out now there's nothing else in here!" the lieutenant called out waving his hand at the van and looking around to make sure he was telling the truth.

Officer Muntz snapped out of his trance and his fear was replaced by joy as he spotted the living officers and civilian before him. Hastily unlocking his door he stumbled onto onto the ground. "Lt. Monroe, you're alive thank God! When that skinless freak came in and massacred Shepherd and all of his men I thought everybody else had died too, but boy was I wrong and for once in my life it's good to be wrong!"

"Worry about the tearful reunions later, right now we've got a wounded man in need of assistance. Get those back doors open now and we'll chat later." Monroe ordered as Ben and David moved further with the injured sergeant draped over them.

The overweight officer did as ordered and after some great struggle Sgt. Foreman was finally loaded into the back of the armored van. For the next few minutes Jake and Eric would stand guard while Harry finally applied some bandages to the sergeant's wounds and Monroe, David and Ben searched the cell block hallway for any threats and made sure the kennel area was secure so there could be an escape for the other, much larger group that would be coming through. The sweep was quicker than thought and the three officers returned unscathed by any sign of threats.

"All right, this area appears to be clear of any visible threats," Monroe reported seemingly relieved to report such pleasant news. It was a small miracle that at least one portion of the station had been recovered from the likes of the undead and although the rest of the station could not be saved, it was a relief knowing that he would be able to save a few innocents along the way, he just hoped that the planned path had been cleared long enough for them to get through. He looked around to his men present and weighed his options. 

Sgt. Foreman was too gravely wounded to fight and was better off being left guarded in the back of the van. Harry Muntz was too much of a coward to put up an effective fight against the undead and was better off left behind as well. Despite handling himself well enough already for only being a few days on the beat, Eric Rawlings was too green for all out combat and would best be left behind to stand guard. That left only Ben Dallas, David McGraw and the civilian Jake Smith who were the only solid fighters in the group with actual combat experience next to him. One of them would have to remain behind with him to guard the cell block and car park and two of them could probably be sent back seeing as they had managed to clear out most of the east wing hallways as planned.

"McGraw, I want you and Mr. Smith to head back and get the others. There's a lot of people waiting for us back there and we need to get them down here A.S.A.P. It should take only two of you seeing how we got our path cleared out. Dallas, I want you to stay behind with me and provide security until the others get down here. Now get moving!" he barked to the two men.

David looked over to Jake, amazed that a civilian would receive such an order, but he felt confident at the same time knowing he was a capable fighter who would be able to handle the task at hand. "Yes sir!" he nodded and spun around in a sprint for the upper levels. "Come on Jake!"

"Right behind you!" Jake followed closely behind the trooper ready to receive any commands. For now he would continue with his little charade, but deep down he was already biding his time for when he would make his move. There were quite a few things he would have to take into consideration, like getting enough ammo to get the job done since he would be encountering a lot more than Dr. Birkin and a few inept researchers and guards. Running out of ammo for his submachine gun was not a good sign at all. Finding the right time to escape would also be another thing to consider as he would have to make his exit without arousing suspicions and the number of people still alive around him didn't make things much easier, so he wouldn't be able to just disappear into the shadows. Lastly, Sebastian told him that there was a way to the chemical plant through the sewers, but why there? He speculated that Umbrella might have a secret facility within the sewers somewhere, but exactly where he did not find out, although the dying researcher said something about finding some medals that could get him in to the chemical plant. It would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack, but one that he was determined to find.

"I will find it..." he told himself as he followed David up the flight of stairs back to the first floor.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

BANG!

The shot rang out and a second later Elliott Edward laid writhing on the ground in a crippling pain too severe for him to even let out a scream. He tried to speak, but the blood was already gathering in his mouth and he would soon choke to death. A spreading flower of dark red was visible on his bright blue shirt, over his heart.

"Beautiful," Brian Irons thought to himself as he lifted the gun to his lips and casually blew away the smoke. The spent casing clattering against the tile floor was music to his demented ears and then a death-like silence floated in his subconscious as he took in what he just did. 

He had shot Elliott Edward, or "Ed" as everybody called him, through the back and straight through the heart. The stalking, taking aim, that tense moment of silence before he pulled the trigger, the rush of adrenaline as he pulled the trigger, the ripping of flesh as the bullet connected, his blood splattering on the wall and then the moment of grace as the man's legs gave out underneath him and he fell backwards with a dull thud. It was like poetry in motion, a living masterpiece as any sick mind would probably call it.

Choked gasps escaped the man's lips. He was still alive and spasming on the ground like a fish out of water, but it would soon end and the man would die. The Chief would have to enjoy the moment while it lasted.

"What's the matter, Ed?" Irons gloated, feeling a gruesome satisfaction he had never before felt, not even when he had claimed one of the many animals that had now been a part of his private collection. "You didn't think the Chief would be the one that got you now, did you? Well you were wrong you stupid fuck! I bet you thought you were going to make it out of this rancid shithole alive, didn't you? Well I'm terribly sorry to inform you Eddie boy that your plans have just come to an abrupt conclusion." Irons chuckled to himself.

Officer Edward's eyes were still open in an unblinking agony trying to make sense of what was going on. He was trying to make sense of the heavy, crushing pain, why his body wouldn't move and why his breath wouldn't come out and lastly, that familiar coppery smell he had smelled so much of in the past few days.

Brian Irons' chuckle now grew into a hideous, demonic laughter as he stared into the eyes of his most recent accomplishment. The moment reminded him of a hunting expedition he went on in northern Wisconsin when he had come across a North American Black Bear who just stood there on its hind legs trying to reap the honey from an overhead beehive. With an unnatural silence, the man raised his rifle and fired a single round into the creature's back, and watched as the animal turned around trying to stagger towards him, dragging a trail of blood behind it as it tried to exact some revenge, but its body gave out and it fell before him. The agonized look in the animal's eyes reminded him much of the same look in the officer's and the man's dying gurgle reminded him of the bear's dying groan.

A few moments later Elliott Edward was dead, lying with hands clutching the very spot he had been hit. A glassy death gaze settled on his now barren features perfectly complimenting his open mouth.

"Exquisite...positively exquisite..." was all the Chief could say to himself, the high received from his latest kill still thick in his high-pitched sneering tone. The moment of death had always fascinated him greatly, the thinned out strand of life and vibrancy snapped, only to be replaced by the cessation and onset of decay. What interested him more was the preservation of a living thing's final moments, which is why he loved taxidermy so much, though this brute's form did not interest him at all. He wanted something smooth, something delicate.

A moan interrupted his thoughts and he shot a scowling gaze out through the window of a nearby door at the zombies banging away mindlessly at the chain-link fence surrounding the outdoor emergency stairwell.

"It's all over," he thought solemnly to himself. "Those imbeciles from Umbrella have finally done it. Despite all their promises after the Spencer Estate incident, they have gone and ruined my town! My town!" Only now did he realize what a fool he had been to trust Umbrella and now look what it had gotten him into. The streets crawled with zombies and so did the station, along with other nameless mockeries of human nature he had barely escaped by the skin of his teeth. It was all their fault, more importantly that brash, overconfident fool Birkin. That damned virus he had been working on clouded his judgment too deeply and looked what it had caused.

Umbrella had destroyed Raccoon City, a city he had hoped to one day preside over all of as its next mayor. Warren was becoming too independent for their liking and they wanted someone who was easily controlled, someone who didn't ask unnecessary questions and that somebody was him. He was bound to win for sure, but now that was no more. As far as he is concerned Raccoon is finished and Brian Irons is finished. Everything he had ever worked for was gone up in smoke. Now there was nothing but death and nothing else but...the hunt!

Yes, Umbrella had taken everything away, but at the same time they had unleashed an animal - no more money or politics, just the raw and frenzied instinct of the hunt. He was no longer within the confines of the Raccoon Police Department, he was back home in the wild where the only law was survival of the fittest.

There were plenty more survivors out there that would be his for the taking and he could smell their fear like the animal he had become. He knew right now they were probably formulating plans to escape and would probably end up trying to sneak out through the sewers, only to wind up in another death trap at the sewage disposal facility. Either way, nobody would be getting out alive and if the zombies didn't kill them, he would kill them himself.

Everybody is going to die!

A shotgun blast rang out followed by three more in succession. "Ed! I need your help out here!" a panicked voice called out.

Neil Carlsen was out in the hallway fighting for his life. A dedicated, obedient officer with a wife and kids who never asked questions and always did what was told to him. It was truly a shame because now he was about to join his friend Officer Edward among the dead. With the zombies he was fighting, the Chief could easily sneak up and shoot him from behind, easy as cake. Plus, the zombies would devour his lifeless body whole, eliminating any suspicion on his part. He would have to make sure to do the same with Ed back there, drag his body out onto the emergency stairwell next to that of Fred Dixon and let those infected crows peck away at his cooled corpse. It would lift any possible blame that could be placed on him.

A sadistic grin crossed the Chief's pudgy features and with the adrenaline pumping through his system he prepared to claim his next victim.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A resounding crash echoed through the library as the weapons cases were knocked over and the door was ripped from its hinges. Murderous intent intact, an entire wave of zombies poured into the large room with their sights set on all the fresh meat present.

"Oh crap," Marvin muttered to Aaron Groening next to him. They had made it in and were going to kill them all unless they acted quickly. "Quick everybody to the balcony now!" he shouted to the civilians present, most of whom just stood by in shock completely unable to move. His fellow officers though ahd understood him and the two officers closest to the side double doors threw them open while the others immediately opened fire upon the approaching hordes.

The zombies went to work right away tearing into the officers and civilians who stood closest to the side entrance. D.J. Horner stood nearby and initially felt much horror as he watched the undead feast upon the living and it was nothing new. The rookie had been scared ever since he laid eyes upon a zombie ripping a human apart the other day and he was still scared, but he would have to overcome it if he wanted to live. An unknown bravery suddenly manifested itself and the adrenaline began pumping through his veins. Drawing his H&K VP-70, he suddenly took notice of a zombie that had managed to overpower Denise and was just inches away from sinking its teeth into her forearm. Determined to prove his worth to the department, he raised his gun and fired a round catching the cadaver in its left temple.

Denise let out an ear-piercing scream as she was showered in bits of blood and grey matter from the small explosion before her. Rather than stopping to thank her savior, she quickly threw the corpse aside and ran away as fast as she could.

More zombies charged towards him and the rookie officer fired more rounds in their direction, the adrenaline rush wearing down and his growing desperation causing him to fire more rapidly and waste most of his clip. Shots from another gun sounded beside him and he looked over to see Samantha firing upon the undead with the Beretta given to her by Jake. Unfortunately, the woman had probably not fired a gun in a long time as most of her early shots only struck her targets in their torsos and limbs. It took nearly an entire clip before she finally struck one in the head and sent it falling facedown to the stained wooden floor.

"Get back!" an authoritative voice boomed from behind them.

The two turned around to find Donald with his shotgun trained on the marching dead and ready to fire. Both of them jumped out of the way as the veteran officer fired a blast that knocked several of the zombies back and disemboweled one of them. He pumped the gun and fired another blast that decapitated one almost on top of him and then swung his weapon like a bat, catching another in the neck and snapping it upon impact.

"Donald! We have to go!" Sheila Byrd called out from behind her husband tugging hard on his sleeve. Her eyes were wrought with worry as she stared at the creatures still spilling into the library. The woman wanted desperately for her husband to get out of this mess alive because he was all she had left. They might have lost all of their children in this mess, but she still thought to herself that if they both made it out alive together then they could move in with her family out in Wyoming and spend the rest of their lives growing old together. He was all she had left and it would destroy her to see something happen to her beloved Donald.

"Sheila, you have to get out of here now!" he ordered turning around to fire another blast at approaching zombies and looked over his shoulder again to spot Ellen Sears near his wife. "Ellen, take my wife and get her out of here, please!"

Ellen nodded and grabbed Sheila by the arm, "Sheila come on, we have to get out of here now!" the officer demanded trying to pull her towards the opened double doors where more civilians were still slipping through to escape the undead.

"No! Not without my husband!" she screamed, her voice hoarse and cracking with emotion. She tried to break free from the female officer's grasp and make her way towards Donald, who by now had been joined by Marvin and the two of them were cutting down zombies with their backs pressed tightly against one another. Aaron Groening stood not too far away next to Amber Bernstein, both of them armed with shotguns as well and cutting down any zombie that came within five feet of them. It had been hard for both of them as there were still several civilians running around in the library and they had to be careful as not to hit any. George Scott stood protectively in front of Mayor Warren and his daughter Beverly sniping down attacking zombies using carefully placed potshots and was doing what he could to inch them closer and closer to the double doors as he was starting to get low on ammo. David Ford had his Mossberg out and fired away madly at the assailants, laughing like a madman as he turned each and every one of them into fertilizer. Unknown the the unstable officer, his bottle of whiskey had run out and if he were to find out anytime soon, things would not be pretty.

"Come on, we have to get out of here!" D.J. shouted to Samantha as the zombies began ganging up on them and they both fired a few rounds into the approaching zombies before turning to run. Picking up speed, the young woman suddenly slipped on some freshly spilled blood and tumbled over a fallen body, striking her knee hard against the wooden floor.

"Ahhh, help me!" she screamed noticing the zombies now hovering above her.

Pulling a quick 180, the young officer turned around and used up what remained of his current clip to save the woman and then quickly snatched her up, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and dragging her towards the exit. "Cover us, we're getting outta here!" he shouted to a nearby fellow officer firing upon the zombies with a submachine gun.

Ellen Sears fired three shots into a zombie's upper body before she finally hit its head and sent it falling to the floor, unfortunately they were also her last bullets and another zombie was closing in on her. The officer peeked over her shoulder to see Sheila Byrd still standing close behind her looking on fearfully as her husband fought hellishly against the invading undead. "I'm out! Sheila, we have to go now!" she shouted to the woman.

"Behind you!" she hollered pointing towards her.

The zombie who had been closing in on her was now right on top of the officer and clamped its cold, lifeless hands onto her shoulders. How could she have been so stupid? With speed much greater than she thought it could possess, the creature moved its head down and dug its rotting teeth into her shoulder and collarbone areas.

Sheila Byrd had finally seen enough and grabbed a large legal encyclopedia from the massive bookshelf behind her and tossed it at the zombie, striking the zombie in the side of its head. Her attack had only managed to stun the cadaver, but it had accomplished her objective of getting the creature away from the officer. The monster had now focused its attention on her and she went to grab another massive book, but was stopped by a bony hand wrapping its rotting fingers around her ankle.

"Donald!"

Hearing the ear-piercing shriek of his wife, Donald Byrd turned around to find the unthinkable happening. A zombie laying on the floor had snatched a hold of his wife's ankle and was digging its teeth into her lower leg, forcing her to scream horribly as she was experiencing a pain she had never felt before. Not only that, another zombie was grabbing onto her shoulders and about to tear into her flesh as well.

"Get away from her you rotting bastard!" he screamed in primordial rage and raised his shotgun to fire only to find that he was out. The veteran officer didn't even bother to search for any more shells and he dashed over to the zombie proceeding to beat it to death with his shotgun before its gooey brain matter and locks of hair covered the handle. Disgusted he tossed the shotgun aside and scooped up his injured wife and Officer Sears who stood nearby, dragging both of them to the nearby exit.

Marvin, Aaron and Amber all continued firing upon the relentless zombies hoping to buy some time for any remaining civilians. Amber by now had run out of shells for her shotgun and was down to using her Beretta 9mm. sidearm, while Aaron still fired away with his shotgun and took down the larger groups of approaching zombies.

"Okay, I think we've got all the civilians out of here!" Marvin called over to his two colleagues as he dropped another zombie and looked back towards the main hall entrance where the last few survivors had made it out.

"Wait, where's Mayor Warren?" Amber shouted over the undead moans.

George Scott fell before the three officers wrestling with a tall zombie clad in a camouflage hunting jacket, struggling to hold the zombie's face away from him as his H&K VP-70 lay just inches away. Knowing he probably would not win the life or death struggle, Amber raised her gun and quickly put the cadaver out of its misery and spraying her fellow officer with a fresh layer of blood. Marvin and Aaron snatched the bald officer up and began dragging him near the exit as well.

"George, where's the mayor?" Marvin demanded knowing of the officer's close friendship with the city official outside of the R.P.D.

"He should be-"

The frightened cries of a familiar voice caught everybody's attention. Michael Warren stood near the stairs trying to make an escape for the balcony that would take him to the third floor, but there had been a few zombies standing in his way. Seeing what other survivors had done before, the mayor attempted to tackle his way through the two zombies in front of him, but he was a small man who barely stood over five foot six and was easily caught. The politician screamed frantically for help and mustered up as much strength possible trying to fight off the zombies, but it was an uphill battle on his behalf and the officers could only watch in horror as the crowd of zombies swallowed him whole and his screams were soon forever silenced as the blood gushed into the air. Ragged strips of clothing and flesh were all that remained of the man soon after.

KA-SHUNK! BL-BLAM!

A shotgun blast rang out and the startled officers turned around to find they had lost another colleague.

David Ford laid against a wall with an empty Mossberg shotgun resting on his lap, dead from a self-inflicted shotgun blast that had completely obliterated his face. An empty bottle of whiskey laid nearby.

"Oh god...David!" Amber sobbed looking to the man's corpse. The poor bastard had killed himself. It was bad enough to die by the hands of one of those undead monsters, but to give up hope and suddenly kill yourself, even that was too much.

"Come on, I've seen enough death around here. Let's just get the hell out of here!" Marvin ordered and the three officers followed him out onto the second floor mezzanine slamming the doors behind them.

Marvin Branagh took a couple deep breaths and allowed himself to collapse against the wall slinking into a sitting position. All he could think to himself right now was if there were any safe places in the R.P.D. where he and the civilians would be able to wait in peace with no possible dangers until a path to the lower levels had been cleared. Apparently not. It looked as if he and the others would be pushed from room to room until the time finally came for them to escape, a burden he could not afford.

Sensing Amber and Aaron near him, the black officer slowly rises back to his feet and looks around at those who remained. Of the original forty-something civilians who were present, the attack had now dwindled their number down to between twenty-five and twenty. As for the officers, aside from Marvin, Aaron, George, Amber, Donald, Eric and D.J. there were only five more uniformed officers left not counting Ellen, Rickman and Oliver who had been seriously injured in the scuffle. For the S.W.A.T. officers it was down to Fulton and Garrison, who next to Parker Lee, were probably all that was left of the S.W.A.T. team along with Sgt. Foreman, David McGraw, Ben Dallas and Mitchell Cannon if they still survived.

The mood had gone from somber to down right frightful as the remaining civilians cried out nervously to each other. Any attempts at remaining calm had deteriorated into near madness and they would soon become more of a problem than the zombies if not properly contained. Many cringed as they listened to the heart-wrenching bellowing of Beverly Warren, who by now had received the news that her father did not make it out alive. An exasperated George held her closely trying to comfort her as she thrashed about madly in grief and the others moved back fearing they would be struck down by her outburst. 

Those not paying attention to the hysterical daughter were preoccupied by injured officers. Ellen Sears and Leonard Rickman had both been bitten and their wounds were being tended to by Samantha and another survivor who possessed some first-aid training. The worst of the three was Troy Oliver, who had been dragged out while a zombie tore into his stomach. Weakened obscenities escaped from his lips as he laid on the marble floor with a man's suit jacket beneath his head as a makeshift pillow. He still clutched at his stomach as the others fought to keep him pinned down so he could receive treatment. It was obvious now that he probably didn't have much time left.

Donald Byrd's wife Sheila had also been bitten and he rested near the emergency ladder clutching her tightly. It was truly a heartbreaking sight to watch the man hold her like that, knowing that her time was probably almost up and she would soon become one of the undead.

Marvin had also taken note that a few faces were missing. Kenny Feng, the station's work experience volunteer, and his red-haired friend Cranky were nowhere to be found. Knowing the station layout from the former's job, perhaps the two of them had managed to slip out during the chaos through one of the station's rumored secret passages that only Chief Irons was supposed to know about. Sherry Birkin, the little girl whom they had been watching over for the past few days was also nowhere to be found. It was a wild guess, but chances were that given her small size she had probably escaped through the ventilation system. Through all of the forgettable faces present, one figure that had really stood out to the officer was an attractive Asian-American woman in a red cocktail dress. Nobody seemed to know her name since she kept to herself, but she had stood out enough where her absence was noticeable.

"Marvin!"

The desk sergeant had been so caught up in the events immediately surrounding him he had completely forgotten about the other officers stationed down below. Rita, Parker, Beck and Castor all waved to him from their posts and they were now joined by three individuals he recognized from the cell block who had somehow gotten out of their cells and now stood amongst them armed and dangerous. Returning them to their cells would have to wait, right now he had bigger things to worry about and made his way to the emergency ladder.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sheila Byrd, the beautiful young woman he had met during his days at Raccoon University who would eventually go on to become his wife and later the mother of his children, was dying. He cradled her in his arms as she held a bloody handkerchief over the wound she had sustained to her lower leg at the hands of that one zombie in the library.

"Dear lord, if only I could've been a little faster...I could have saved her," he thought to himself as he stared sadly off to the side, not wanting his wife to see him struggling to hold back tears. "I wish I could kill that undead fucker over and over again for what he did to her!" his lips turning into a bitter frown, "Now she's probably going to end up like Elijah, one of those rotting mindless freaks..." Just the mention of his son's name made him choke and he began to sniffle as his lips joined in quivering.

"Donald, sweetie..." his wife gently spoke to him.

"What?" he whimpered finally looking to her unable to hold back his tears, "What is it my darling?" The man's heart had risen into his throat and he sounded as if he would choke on it if it didn't burst out of his neck first.

"That thing that bit me...I saw what one of those things did to Elijah and remember what it did to him...will I end up like that?" she asked failing miserably to maintain her composure and breaking down as she watched her husband's tears stream down his face. "Will I become one of those things too?"

Donald Byrd had known that question would probably arise the second he knew his wife had been bitten. Still, it hit him like a ton of bricks and he knew that he could never bring himself to lie to a woman he had been married to for over twenty years. His mind told him to tell her the truth, but his heart told him otherwise and when the time came to speak, all that came out was a barely audible choke.

"Donald, please tell me and don't lie to me!" she demanded hugging him tighter to her body, "I don't want to become one of those things!"

"Yes..." almost in a daze the word escaped his lips and as soon as he heard his voice he abruptly silenced himself. The next words though fired a bullet straight into through heart.

"Donald, listen to me..." she finally spoke in a hoarse, pained voice. "If I start changing into one of those things...I...I...I want you...to shoot me..."

Author's Note: I'm sorry if the last part of this chapter is a little too brief, but I made the mistake of writing this when it was almost 4 in the morning and on the verge of going to bed. In a way though, I feel that it leaves more to the imagination and I promise that I will expand upon the segment with Donald and his wife in the next chapter, adding more drama to what will be another mostly run-and-gun chapter. Until then, I highly appreciate your feedback so read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/ 


	25. Chapter 20: A Costly Escape

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Author's Note: Hey all, believe it or not I return to you with an update of the highly sought after "Darkness Arises." I know that I'm a terrible updater probably most of the time, but I always have a reason. My computer had to be reprogrammed and even though I had little typed when I started on this chapter and got it fixed, it still knocked the wind out of my creative sails, that plus I had a job at some shitty medical plastics factory working 8 hour days and had to get up at 4:30 in the morning for that job. Well I've been let go from that and only then do the creative floodgates come open again and I am able to bring you my latest installment. Once again as usual read and review and hopefully keep the angry pitchfork/torch/shovel/gun-toting/battering ram/Michael Jackson-wielding townspeople at bay for a while. Now on with the story!

Chapter 20: A Costly Escape

"Parker, for God's sakes open that door right now!" David cried as he ejected his empty clip and struggled to load a fresh one while in the middle of a mad dash.

Jake followed the S.W.A.T. officer closely behind, occasionally firing the Beretta over his shoulder at the zombies stumbling close behind. The two men had made their way through the now unpopulated basement hallways only to find themselves surrounded by several more zombies as they reentered the first floor level. Neil Carlsen and Elliott Edward were supposed to have been standing guard, but neither man was anywhere to be found and some conspicuous bloodstains had probably told of their fates. Whatever happened they had not had the time to sit around and find out.

The two men were in the east wing hallway rounding a corner past the overrun cafeteria when they took out a zombified police officer and spotted the door leading to the main hall before them. As soon as they could break into an adrenaline boosted sprint, the door was ripped open with an anxious Parker waiting with shotgun raised. "Come on," the S.W.A.T. officer called out pumping his shotgun and readying a shot for approaching zombies.

The two fleeing men leapt into the air as they were inches away from the opened door, both literally diving through their new opening, David landing rough on his stomach while Jake planted his hands on the ground and rolled roughly until he laid near the main entrance. Behind them Parker stepped into the hall and fired two more shells before returning and slamming the door shut behind them. The rookie tensed up as he listened to the zombies' incoherent groans and shuffling footsteps and sagged his shoulders in relief when they were heard no more.

"That was close," David breathed heavily rolling over into a sitting position and scooping up his trusty assault rifle. Jake stood on a knee not to far away panting silently and holding his side.

"Mind telling me where those two cop friends of yours were?" the criminal snorted as he scrambled back to his feet and re-holstered his Beretta reaching down and helping the officer back to his feet.

"They should have been there standing guard for any more of those freaks, unless they got to them before we came back." David replied.

"And you two were gone for quite a while," Parker added, inviting an annoyed stare from Jake.

Footsteps came from behind and the trio turned to see Beck and Castor stepping away from their posts followed by the three escaped criminals they had encountered in the east wing hallway. It then finally sunk in that the other survivors were present in the main hall and most of them had relocated to the second floor mezzanine.

"David, Jake, you made it back! Thank God, things were going to shit up here and we were starting to doubt if any of you had made it at all," Marvin called out from above, standing near the emergency ladder flanked by Amber, Aaron, George, D.J. and a few other officers looking on anxiously. "Where are they others, did they make it?" he asked, the looks on the other officers deepening.

Jake and David both looked to each other and he nodded, understanding that it would be up to the S.W.A.T. officer himself to tell them everything being his co-workers and all. The young cop took a few moments to clear his throat and spoke up.

"We've got good news and bad news," he spoke slowly as he was unsure of how to deliver it to his co-workers. "The good news is we've managed to secure the basement level. We encountered some resistance, but eliminated everything that got in our path…I hope."

"What about the bad news?" Marvin asked looking uneasily towards the others with him on the balcony.

David tightened the grip on his assault rifle and forced himself to speak, "The bad news is that we didn't completely secure the east wing first floor and there are still zombies lurking about, but hopefully can be dealt with easily if we use our combined force. Sgt. Carlsen and Officer Edward were supposed to be standing guard, but they're nowhere to be found and we suspect the worst.

"Not only that, we lost several of our men too. Dixon, Montoya, Minton, Dr. Ramsey, Cannon…all dead because of those bastards. Sgt. Foreman got hurt pretty badly too by one of those ugly tongue creatures and if we don't get him medical treatment soon enough…I don't know if he'll make it. Lt. Monroe, Dallas and Rawlings are down there right now with him and Officer Muntz, waiting for us to get the hell out of dodge."

A deafening silence fell over the officers above while the frightened civilians looked around without saying anything. The only thing heard were the sobs of Lt. Bernstein, who could be seen fighting to hold back, but failing miserably as the salty tears crept out from the sides of her eyes. Rita too was hit hard by the news and collapsed into a nearby swivel chair.

Marvin looked to the others again and they all bowed their heads in solemn remembrance to the fallen heroes. To Jake, he was on the outside looking in as he knew none of these fallen officers personally, but he had seen enough over the past few days to know that these men and women were well-liked within their precinct. Before the outbreak, things probably had not been as close within the walls of the R.P.D., but with the zombies greatly outnumbering them, he could understand that the officers had been temporarily forced to set aside their differences and as a result had probably bonded closely on a more personal level. He too had felt the same way with fellow gang members he had either lost to scraps with rival gangs and law enforcement or just to incarceration in general. The past was the past however and he had been forced to move on. Reliving it over and over again would only slow him down.

"Come on, all we can do now is get out of this godforsaken shithole and find some place clean and sane. I'd rather die somewhere with my body intact than an all you can eat buffet for those fucked up freaks!" Marvin spoke to the others and then began descending the ladder to the ground floor. "The fast you move, the faster we can all get out of here!"

One by one the survivors descended to the ground floor of the main hall, starting with two more officers followed by civilians until they had all descended and the remaining officers followed them down until it was time to evacuate the wounded. Troy Oliver was beyond saving and was left behind, very likely unaware that he was being abandoned. As much as they hated to do it, they knew he would be too much of a burden and would turn at any moment. The same could be said of Ellen Sears, who had been bitten in the previous scuffle and had no idea when she would turn. Another officer named Burchill had been in the process of assisting wounded officer Leonard Rickman when an animalistic roar rang out and the untouched officer had literally flung himself over the safety railing, barely catching the ladder. Officer Rickman had now become one of the undead and took a swipe at Officer Burchill, nearly falling over the railing himself.

Acting on an impulse and for what he didn't know, Jake pulled out his Beretta and took aim at the newly mutated officer only to be stopped by David.

"Leave him," the S.W.A.T. officer dolefully ordered, "I pray he is of no danger to us now and it would only be a wasted bullet."

David was confident he would not have to encounter the undead officer again, being that he was going to be escaping the station for good. Jake on the other hand probably would be coming across the zombie again and wanted to finish his work before it could be started. No doubt there was also the personal connection between David and the undead officer from their pasts together, probably to him a hardworking family man he just couldn't bring himself to put down.

"Fine, we'll leave him then-" Jake spoke when he was cut off by the sounds of shattering glass and more moans. He was not the only person to hear the all-too-familiar moans as other officers pulled out their weapons and aimed towards the first floor waiting room entrance.

"What?" was all Quincy Beck managed to get out before the double doors behind him and Castor came flying open. Another wave of zombies that had managed to infiltrate the station earlier came streaming into the untouched main hall, proving that nowhere within the R.P.D. was safe. Before the two officers standing guard could get a shot in, they were quickly overwhelmed as had many of their co-workers been before them.

"Not again…" David muttered at the sight of more co-workers being torn apart by the undead while he stood in the background and did nothing. The desperate officer raised his assault rifle in an attempt to take down more zombies, but the mass of blue R.P.D. uniforms and fleeing civilians made it difficult for him to get a clear shot. The officers and few armed civilians began firing upon the encroaching undead, moving with the rapid force they had grown accustomed to over the past few days. Deafening bangs and bright flashes disoriented the two men and they were both nearly knocked from their feet by several survivors who had managed to make it through the wave of armed officers, included Donald carrying his injured wife wrapped around his shoulder. Gun smoke filled the air making it difficult to see and even harder to breathe, so much the S.W.A.T. officer barely noticed the zombified janitor coming up next to him, about to reach for him over the wooden railing.

Jake stood next to David with his lone Beretta now raised in the air hoping to squeeze off any extra shots he could once he found the opening, but the zombies were too numerous even for him and the smoke made it difficult for a clean shot. He was nearly knocked from his feet on more than one occasion by the other survivors darting past him and looked over his shoulder to see Donald and his wife, along with Samantha, Denise and D.J. had already made it. The smoke had begun to lift and he could now make out Amber, Aaron and George fighting the zombies along with the other officers, but were quickly being pushed into the corner and would soon be forced into the east wing hallway where more zombies lurked about, much like they had been for the past few hours. He also spotted the zombie sneaking up on the S.W.A.T. officer and fired a round through its decaying left eye.

"Get out of here now!" Marvin tried to shout over the pops of handguns, pausing temporarily to fire some of his own shots into the approaching crowd of dead.

The career criminal managed to spot the desk sergeant through all of the smoke standing near the fountain looking like he was trying to find a path through the wandering zombies, but knew he was coming up short and wanted the others to get out as fast as they could. In a blur of white, he had also spotted the mayor's daughter, running past several lunging zombies around the front desk and towards a single door to the immediate right of the reception area. "Beverly, get back here!" he shouted and the rest of his words were muted out by the gunfire.

"Fall back! Fall back now damn it!" Aaron shouted as he spun around facing the east wing entrance, the gnarled nails of a zombie just brushing against his back as he made his move. The young officer frantically pushed the others back towards the door as he nearly tripped trying to get them out of there. Passing both David and the career criminal he stopped to face them, "Both of you, help me out here!"

"C'mon ladies!" David shouted grabbing both Samantha and Denise making his way towards the opened door, which Parker and Aaron now fired into taking down more approaching zombies. D.J., Rita and the three convicts followed close behind. The frightened survivors literally squished each other through the small opened door and having the zombies nearby wasn't helping matters much either.

"Forget about them, move your ass idiot!" Jake barked to a nearby civilian firing at the zombies, forcibly turning him around and shoving him through the escape route. After what he had seen the past few days, nobody except those Umbrella slimebags deserved a death so horrible. In a rare showing of mercy, he would allow anybody proven to be non-hostile the chance to survive this madness.

The surviving zombies assembled in one large mass behind the career criminal stepping over their previous victims with the bloody froth oozing from their open mouths, too much for him given his exhausted state.

"Jake, forget about them! I've got them taken care of!"

Jake turned to find Aaron standing with a Molotov cocktail in each hand, both lit and ready to blow if he did not toss them right away. With a wicked grin, the career criminal nodded to the officer and raced past the man. With Jake out of the way, Officer Groening stared hatefully at the former humans before tossing the homemade bombs in their direction. He cared nothing for a final glance as he turned around and slammed the door shut behind him, the sounds of burning flesh and dying moans enough to tell him of the creatures' fate.

"Quick, go through the office now! Take the next hall down to the basement and get to the garage immediately!" David shouted, having already yanked the double doors open and now holding more surviving zombies off with bursts from his assault rifle. Parker and D.J. helped him out while the other officers shepherded the civilians through the office.

This was going to be it; the others were going to attempt their dramatic, costly escape. For them, he could sense that this would only be the beginning as they would still have to fight their way through whatever lurked outside the station. For those escaping in the van, they would have to weave their way through streets that were probably littered with wrecked cars and corpses that would make messy speed bumps. If either happened, they would then be forced to traverse the hazardous streets on foot, a suicidal move right there bound to yield few or no survivors at all.

For those making their way through the sewers, there were still untold possibilities of what had probably gone undiscovered beneath, monstrosities that would make the zombies and Lickers look like pitiful insects.

There was also the matter of those who had been airlifted to the city airport, they would now be on their own with no support from headquarters and if there were no available aircraft large enough to fit them all in, they would be trapped in the city and eventually fall prey to whatever lurked in the nearby woods.

Once they were all gone, completing his mission was all that mattered to Jake. There was still a ten million dollar bounty waiting to be claimed and it would become his no matter what. All he had to do now was survive and he felt that he was perfectly capable of doing that, even in a situation like this.

David slammed the doors shut behind him and both rookie officers were quick to overturn nearby filing cabinets hoping to temporarily slow down any surviving zombies. This room would be difficult for them to navigate anyway given the lines of desks that took up most of the space in the small room and scattered debris on the floor would affect their footing. With their clumsiness they would hopefully be held down for awhile.

"Come on you guys!" Parris called out from the side hallway. "We don't have much time before that coward Muntz decides to pull out, and they're not going to be keeping the manhole open much longer either so I'd hop to it if I were you!"

"Run ahead, I'll cover the rear!" Jake loudly whispered to the three police officers, knowing it could possibly be the beginning of his plan to separate himself from the rest. The officers knew they were getting dangerously low on ammo as they could hear the zombies throwing their bodies against the doors from the other side and would be overrun within seconds. The career criminal followed his allies into the side hall kicking the door shut behind him and was halfway to the door leading to the basement entrance when something unexpected happened.

Bolting through the narrow hallway, he was stopped dead in his tracks as dirt and plaster fell from the ceiling and temporarily blinded him. A loud crash followed and he relied upon his extra senses to move him away from the falling ceiling tile and the next thing he knew the blinded criminal was knocked backwards by an unseen force and sent flying through the nearest window into the wicked night.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Using the last bullet from his current clip, he pulled the trigger and dropped the last remaining zombie in the main hall.

"Hmph, like shooting fish in a barrel," Brian Irons arrogantly remarked, ejecting the now spent clip from his Browning HP and allowing it to clatter loudly onto the marble floor below. "Now if only it could have been Branagh, Porter, Ryman or that young idealistic schmuck David McGraw…" he pondered aloud knowing that he was the only living person in the room and that all those officers had it out for him, then again he was fully aware that pretty much every lesser officer in the station had it out for him.

The tubby police chief had arrived in the main hall just seconds after hearing the sounds of a small battle taking place, only to find the aftermath of another brief, but bloody exchange that had left several more officers and civilians dead, and numerous zombies still stumbling about. There were also four more zombies wandering around on the second floor mezzanine, two of whom he recognized as Troy Oliver and Leonard Rickman, who strangely drifted about like he was not there so he decided to focus on the zombies down below. Using the marksmanship skills he had perfected during his previous hunts, he took down every remaining zombie with the grace of the R.P.D.'s best snipers. To him, the R.P.D. was one large jungle and those roaming undead were large, rotting elk carcasses whose heads he would have proudly displayed on his wall if given the time.

"Truly a shame as this could have been my ultimate test of skills," he thought to himself as he approached the lowered emergency ladder and with some extra struggle given his extra bulk, climbed down and made his way to the front reception desk.

Seeing that no other survivors were around, he naturally assumed that they were probably off in the side wings still looking for an escape route. The distant sounds of gunfire and screams indicated the east wing was more likely. A sick smile crossed his pudgy features as he twiddled around with the menus on the screen until he came across the program that controlled the station's security system and clicked on some options until he happened across the electronic locking mechanisms for the east and west wing entrances. He typed in the required passwords until the screen came up ordering him to swipe his security card through the card reader. With a fluid motion, he pulled out his card and swiped it through the thin slot and was followed by two loud clicks indicating that both sets of doors were now locked.

"There, now those impotent fools are trapped like rats in a maze. Nobody gets in and nobody gets out alive. Everybody will die as planned!" he chuckled with his typical frenzied glee. This would be his ultimate payback for all the insults they spouted behind his back and rumors they stirred about his incompetence trying to get him in trouble with city officials. They would pay dearly and he would receive his long overdue entertainment at their expense, his only regret being that he wouldn't be there to urinate on their decaying corpses.

"Those fools…" he muttered as he looked around at the shot up corpses sprawled about the once eloquent marble floor and his dark eyes were gradually led to the front double doors, which had been held shut by the steel shackles placed by Officer McGraw. The smile on Chief Irons' face grew even wider as he thought of the young officer's stupidity, knowing that only David McGraw would come up with an idea like that.

"You always were a fool, David McGraw. Always thinking outside the box, always thinking too big for your own good, always being a troublesome nuisance who created sickening jokes at my expense along with those moronic S.T.A.R.S.! It truly would be within your character to try delaying the inevitable, but alas you cannot fight destiny. Your bullheaded abrasiveness has cost you much along with the lives of your precious colleagues and yet you still surprise me. It's capricious rogues like you who usually die first, a pity that it couldn't be by my hand you worthless bastard!" the petulant chief growled as he slowly made his way towards the front doors, careful to avoid the fallen corpses in case they were to rise again, as well as to keep their infected blood from staining his good clothes.

"Now to make things a little more interesting," he mused and with a pull of the trigger, shot off the lock holding the shackles allowing them to fall to the floor and kicking them aside. Irons looked out the side windows to see that most of the zombies had now moved on and were either already inside the building or still skulking about outside waiting for fresh arrivals to pursue. Either way, they didn't prove to be much of a threat right now as both the doors and windows would be strong enough to hold them out unless opened.

As if it had a voice of its own, the Browning HP seemingly called out to the delusional chief, telling him that the hunt must continue until his thoughts were interrupted by a woman's screams followed by gunfire.

"That voice! Beverly!" Irons called out, all the joy having disappeared from his tone. Those undead bastards were after his precious Beverly, the only being who would be worth protecting in this entire situation, his sweet, angelic Beverly.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Beverly, get back now!" Marvin shouted as he trained his Browning HP on the zombies standing before them.

While waiting to make their way into the east wing, the main hall was overrun with the undead and several officers fell right away. Her mind rattled by fright, the young woman ran into the west wing office only to find herself in an even tighter situation.

The west wing office which once housed the Violent Crimes Department was now a total mess beyond words. The wooden desks had been hastily pushed together creating a pitiful barricade, the floor was littered with knickknacks from the surrounding desks and piles of dust and chipped plaster beneath brick walls stitched with bullet holes, lockers were pried open and their contents spilt out revealing aspects of their former owners' individual personalities, wooden chairs and tables laid broken and covered in blood from earlier skirmishes, bloody handprints and footprints littered the walls and floors, filing cabinets had been overturned spilling files and assorted reports all over, the door to Marvin's office had been nearly ripped from its hinges with the doorknob missing and numerous types of bullet and shotgun casings littered the floor. A broken handgun lay near the foremost desk, which had been covered in two-liter bottles of soda, unused party cups and other delicacies and a big blue and gold sign which proudly bore the words "WELCOME LEON," a reference to the station's newest cadet Leon S. Kennedy.

Right now the most notable feature should have been the six undead police officers that stood before them, ready to feast on them the second they set foot inside the torn apart room.

Marvin Branagh stood defiantly with gun held high and firmly despite the dampness of his hands. For the past few days he had dropped countless walking cadavers with that very gun given to him as a graduation present by his father, a retired patrolman.

Like his fellow survivors, he had been forced to gun down things that had once been ordinary human civilians he would have seen all over the community. It had been a heavy burden for a man who had dedicated the last fourteen years of his life to serving and protecting the innocent, as it had been for everybody else fighting alongside him.

Now he stood face-to-face against six of the very men he had been fighting valiantly with in the struggle to stay alive.

Graydon Smithers, Russell Kerr, Adam Hallsworth, Axel Leopold, Casey Toth and Julio Francesco, six officers known around the R.P.D. for being their own tight little clique. It was truly ironic and in a way fitting that they remained a clique even in death. In life, they were men who had jobs, friends and families and were respected as true professionals. Now, they stood around as part of the lumbering dead they had fought so hard to kill and they had shifted their attention away from the corpse they had been feasting on near the evidence room entrance to focus on their new targets, Sgt. Branagh and the mayor's daughter.

Taking a few deep breaths, Marvin fired a round that had sent Smithers flying backwards into Kerr and then fired another into the face of Hallsworth, knocking him down to the dirty floor and never getting up again. Leopold stumbled past his fallen adversary's lifeless corpse and slipped on the pool of blood surrounding his head, only shortening the distance between him and his targets.

Beverly screamed loudly at the sight of zombies being killed before her and slipped around behind Marvin once again trying to enter the main hall.

"Beverly, stay behind me!" Marvin barked firing another round and dropping Toth onto a nearby desk. Smithers and Kerr had both returned to their feet and moved towards him seemingly faster than they had before along with Leopold and Francesco who came at the two survivors from the opposite side.

"But they're getting closer!" the young woman screamed as she was again forced into the opposite corner near the reception window by the fast approaching undead Leopold.

Despite his duty to protect her, Beverly's ear-piercing screams were getting on his nerves and he found it increasingly difficult to focus on battling the approaching dead. Wasting two extra rounds, he took down Smithers for good and fired another into Kerr's shoulder, sending him tumbling over his fallen comrade.

Beverly Warren, the only daughter of Mayor Michael Warren. She had been thrust into the local limelight at an early age when her father was first elected mayor of Raccoon City and thus was often the focus of the local press. In public she portrayed the sophisticated, dutiful daughter who stood as the pillar of poise and integrity that all the local girls should aspire to be and as a result of her good looks and charm, was also never at a shortage for potential suitors who wanted to provide her with a life of luxury. However, away from the public eye she was the polar opposite.

Like your typical teenager, she partied hard and clashed with her parents. She was a familiar face at almost all of the underage drinking parties in the city's fashionable uptown district and could be seen with a different guy at every different event, raising gossip of her chastity, including rumors of her being caught skinny dipping in the Marble River with the son of one of her father's closest advisors.

She had always pictured herself attending some prestigious university, getting a degree and then getting married and moving to a nice house in the suburbs, eventually raising a family of her own. Now that was not to be.

Marvin was being backed further and further towards the young woman until he got close enough and fired a round too close to her.

The bright flash and deafening boom startled young Beverly Warren and she leapt to the side in shock, one of her high-heeled shoes breaking beneath her and sending her falling to the floor with a thud. Unfortunately, the crawling Russell Kerr was nearby.

"Beverly!" Marvin shouted as the woman fell, but then took notice of the approaching undead officer crawling towards her, letting out a barely audible "Oh God…"

"Marvin!" she cried back, but then took notice of the approaching undead officer. Within seconds, the zombie was on top of her and tore into her side like it was biting into a cheeseburger. Horrific screams soon followed.

"No!" the sergeant cried and was about to fire his gun when he felt the icy hands grip onto his shoulders. Turning to face his assailants, he found the zombie that had once been Axel Leopold drawing its teeth closer to him and Francesco not too far behind. With another defiant cry, he managed to raise his gun long enough to fire a shot into Francesco's face, but he could do nothing to save himself.

With a sick growl, the zombie dug its teeth into Marvin's shoulder, forcing him to scream and try punching the beast off as his blood sprayed all over the lockers behind and floor beneath him. Summoning up his strength, he finally managed to punch his former colleague off of him and forced himself to raise his gun and fire a round into the former man's cranium as he crumpled backwards against the lockers.

Beverly continued to scream as the undead cop continued tearing into her and Marvin attempted to raise his gun, but was too weakened from the pain and blood loss. It hurt him so much he barely registered the door open behind him and the gunshot that followed.

BANG!

In an instant Russell Kerr assaulted the woman no more and lay crumbled in a heap with a bullet in his left temple.

"Who…is…it…" Marvin weakly grumbled as his vision was blurred and blood gorged from his mouth. He wanted to reach up and press on his wound to stop the blood flow, but also wanted to maintain a firm grip on his gun.

"Beverly! Oh dear sweet Beverly what has happened to you!" a familiar high-pitched voice called out, its usually smug, condescending tone replaced by genuine concern and fright, as genuine as the piece of scum could be.

"Uncle Brian…" the young woman weakly called out as Brian Irons rushed over to her, completely ignoring Marvin Branagh's presence as if in a daze. With strained effort the plump man lifted the petite woman into his flabby arms and hoisted her into the air. "Don't worry my dear, Uncle Brian is here. I'm going to get you to someplace safe. Just hold on!"

The two soon vanished, leaving Sgt. Marvin Branagh alone to ponder what was left of his humanity and to think of the son he would never see again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake Cavanaugh grunted in anguish as he had finally blinked away the dirt and plaster that had fallen into his eyes only to find himself staring into the eyes of his latest attacker.

The career criminal lay on the cold pavement with a near unbearable pain shooting throughout his back and shoulders as he was pinned down by what had once been an ordinary Doberman, now a mangled abomination with eyes as dark and red as blood. He nearly heaved at the beast's foul breath as it drew its blood-drenched fangs closer and closer to his waiting windpipe, dripping its slimy froth and unidentifiable meat from quivering jaws onto what had been the man's favorite shirt.

"You disgusting bastard!" Jake spat at the ravenous beast in his struggle. His gloved hands were clamped onto each side of the former canine's head and he slowly worked his hands down around its brittle neck hoping to strangle it into submission, but its sleek, exposed tendons made things more difficult.

The decaying Doberman barked viciously in protest as fingers were wrapped around its neck one by one and still gnashed its teeth hoping to take a bite out of the human beneath it. With all its strength it lowered its head closer and closer towards the human's exposed neck, but he was just too strong.

"Get…the…fuck…off!" Jake grunted and with a final heave, snapped the undead canine's neck with his bare hands. "Good riddance!" he gasped tossing the beast's carcass aside and swept the glass shards from his clothes, only to look to his left at the sound of approaching footsteps.

More zombies approached in a large group, probably the remnants of the crowd that had gathered outside the structure during the second major assault in which the front gate was breached and the courtyard was completely overrun.

Jake pulled out his remaining Beretta to see that he was down to seven shots in his current clip and only had one left in reserve. His MP5 was empty and he still had two speed loaders left for his magnum revolver, but wanted to save them for the more powerful enemies and there were just too many for him to deal with using his sword alone. As much as he hated to run from a good fight, he had no other choice and took off down the alley and made his way towards a small structure that looked to be connected to the rest of the station.

By now the other survivors had probably assumed he was dead and were moving through the station without him. In a sense it was both good and bad, good being that they were now out of his way and he could carry on his mission uninterrupted and bad being that they could have provided him with backup and a possible way out of town, but quitting was not something that he believed in. There was too much riding at stake and if this "mysterious benefactor" were to pull out on his end of the bargain, Jake would personally rob him of every last cent he carried and leave him with a nice lead souvenir embedded in his forehead. There had been unlucky bastards who had pulled the same stunt on him in the past and in the end, they always fell before him.

He quickly rushed to the cabin and twisted the knob, only to find that it was locked and pressing his ear to the door soon found that it was for the better as he heard more undead moans within. Looking over his shoulder he could see the zombies still stumbling towards him and growing in numbers by the minute. The career criminal looked forward again and examined the cabin more closely, seeing that it was not much taller than him and he still found an opportunity for escape. Leaning backwards Jake focused his strength into his hind leg and flung himself into the air, clutching the very edge of the roof and with another strained effort slowly winched himself onto the structure's roof and stared down upon the hopeless undead as they plowed headlong into the building.

"I think I've just overstayed my welcome around this shithole," he said aloud looking down upon the parking lot on the opposite side where more uniformed zombies staggered about mindlessly and then to his right where another empty alley stood. Where he would go now he had no idea but he would find someplace to hide out as he leapt down onto a closed dumpster and made his way down the alley and through another gate.

Jake opened the squeaky gate as quietly as possible and stepped out onto Canoga Terrace where a few zombies loitered in the distance, but were not much of a threat at the moment and he took a right past a well-lit theater which advertised movies such as "The Blob From Crescent Swamp," "Biohazard 4," "Badfellas," "Manhunt" and numerous other hot titles at the moment. What he wouldn't do to see an ordinary movie right now given that it had been months since he had been to a regular theater. Despite being a wanted criminal, he still didn't let that slow him down from engaging in halfway normal activities such as going to the movies, dining in public restaurants, going to metal/hard rock concerts and other activities people his age participated in, albeit while wearing a disguise most of the time.

The more innocent thoughts in his mind were quickly pushed aside as more zombies came at him from a side alley and another came smashing out of a car that had driven head on into a coffee shop. He focused on the zombie from the car being closer to him and fired a round through its mouth sending it flying back into the car it came from.

"I've gotta get the fuck out of here and to somewhere that's at least halfway safe," Jake said to himself after letting out another yawn and then rubbing his growling stomach. It had been hours since he had last had a normal meal and looking down at his watch he could see that it was already after two in the morning, oh how time flew when you when chased from room to room by zombies and were forced to wrestle with an undead Doberman.

More zombies began appearing from the shadows and on this next street seemed to come at him individually rather than as one large mass. Now down to six bullets in his current clip, he tried to avoid as much physical confrontation as possible. The criminal soon approached a stretch of road where several cars had crashed in a circular formation with four zombies trapped inside of it and no way past them.

Picking up some extra momentum, Jake cut through a small opening and grabbed onto a zombie dressed like a gang member and smashed its head into one of the cars before he tossed it into two of the other zombies and then using a technique he had seen in a zombie flick, leapt onto one of the cars and twirled his body in the air, performing an inside crescent kick to the side of the monster's head.

"Damn, if I wasn't a wanted criminal I probably could've made it as a Hollywood stuntman," he smirked impressed by his own abilities and took a left onto Babel St. when another large group of zombies appeared behind him from a nightclub called The Pyramid Club and would create more trouble if not dealt with right away.

From the corner of his eye, Jake spotted an ambulance that had crashed into a delivery truck with an oxygen tank hanging out through the opened back doors. The tank was small enough to be flung through the air. "Fire never fails to slow you freaks down and now I have more just for you."

Jake tossed the small tank into the air and let his gun follow as it seemingly slowed down and waited for it to sail near the tallest zombie's head before he pulled the trigger and it exploded, sending flaming body parts flying all over.

"That was fucking close," he muttered and turned around to find the street now appeared completely deserted aside from his presence. The exit was blocked by a major car pileup and all the other building's entrances had either been boarded up or blocked in other ways, making it impossible for him to enter. Upon closer inspection, the only building that had appeared to be accessible was a luxurious 12-story ivory apartment complex called Babel Tower.

With nowhere else to go, Jake walked through the tinted front doors into a once grand foyer that had now been turned into a ramshackle war zone with furniture over turned and ripped apart, shattered glass everywhere and blood covering the fancy marble tiles and carpet. Five zombies wandered stood around meekly until the living human entered and they immediately charged in his direction.

Jake remembered that he had only five bullets remaining in his current clip and one left in reserve. "Might as well put them to good use," he quipped and easily dispatched all of them with swift headshots.

With the zombie menace taken care of for the time being he focused his attention on the simple elevators at the back of the room near the front desk and then saw the door leading to the stairwell nearby. He instinctively knew that taking the elevator would leave him in a cramped, vulnerable position if he were to be attacked by a large group, plus he would be screwed if any of those Lickers or Hunters were hiding in the elevator shaft and decided to cut the cables out of boredom. He would have to ascend twelve flights of steps, which would be physically draining, but at the same time he knew how zombies had a difficult time with stairs and could easily be knocked to the side if they gave him any trouble.

Approaching the stairwell entrance, Jake ejected the spent clip and loaded his last remaining clip into the Beretta and for additional firepower, withdrew the powerful S&W M629C magnum revolver he had saved for his more powerful adversaries such as the Lickers, Hunters and the Nemesis.

With a silent nod he kicked the door open and made his way up.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Barely managing to duck under the flying swipe of an airborne Licker, David McGraw flung himself over the hood of a patrol car and landed on his bottom.

"Damn it, how many of those fucking skinned freaks are crawling around this place?" the familiar voice of Ben Dallas called out next to him. The man fumbled for a fresh clip for his H&K MP5 while looking around to make sure there were no Lickers above him or behind him.

"Hell if I know!" David screamed back while numerous shotguns boomed in the background. He assumed some of those shots had probably belonged to Lt. Monroe, Parker and that convict Nathan who were all armed with shotguns, but didn't want to stick his head up for fear that it would be sliced from his shoulders if he did.

David, Aaron, Parker and the others had made their way through the treacherous east wing and then entered the seemingly unoccupied basement corridor only to be greeted by the sound of more gunshots and entered to find that more Lickers had shown up to crash the party. Lt. Monroe, Ben and Eric were all fighting to secure the car park while Harry had shut the doors, leaving him and Sgt. Foreman protected for the time being. Fulton and Garrison fell right away, whittling the S.W.A.T. team's numbers down just to David himself, Ben, Parker and Sgt. Foreman. Aaron and the other remaining uniformed officers stayed with the civilians in the corridor until the fighting died down.

"We have to get these people out of here fast!" David shouted to Ben and then looked over where Eric, Jorge and Kristy hid behind the patrol car parked across from them. Judging by the sound, there were probably three additional Lickers darting around the cavernous garage and the repeated shots told him his colleagues were not getting them.

"How are they holding up out there?" Ben asked motioning towards the door.

"They were doing alright, but some of those demon dogs appeared and another firefight broke out. One of them fell from the ceiling and knocked that Jake dude out a window. We didn't have time to look for him because those things were pressing further and further." David explained, his expression changing from an adrenaline-enhanced fury to a somber frown as he thought of the man and not being able to save him. He had become a close ally over the past few days and even though it was only a few days, he felt as if he had known the man much longer. It would be harder to explain the rest, but it had to be done. "We also lost track of Amber and George in the scuffle. I don't know what happened to them, but I looked up and a second later they were both gone. I hope they're alright, man. I also overheard them talking about Kenny vanishing, poor kid must be scared out of his mind. Hopefully he found that friend of his and maybe they're fighting they're way out of here right now."

He neglected to mention Ellen Sears, who had been bitten by a zombie during the melee in the library. While trying to shoulder her through the bloody east wing hallway, she collapsed and did not respond to anything. Having seen this over the past few days, David knew what was up and ordered both Burchill and Parris to leave her behind.

"Oh man…" Ben sighed looking down at his submachine gun, "I hope they make it out too. Nobody deserves that kind of fate."

Both men were quickly thrown forward and turned to see a Licker had landed on the car behind them. They both suppressed cries of fear as monster let out a bone-jarring scream and brought its tongue up to strike. "Get back!" David shouted to Ben as he fell onto his back and squeezed the trigger, obliterating the creature's head in a hot salvo of automatic rounds.

"Shit!" Ben cried as he laid on his side and saw another Licker scaling the wall near where Eric and the two criminals hid. He opened fire, but only pelted the pale gray wall as the creature leapt away, but not before it struck Kristy Klamp in the side of her neck, mortally wounding her. Eric and Jorge both fired upon the creature with their submachine guns until both their clips emptied.

"Damn it, I'm out!" Eric shouted as he was forced to again pull out his sidearm.

"Hang tight, kid. We'll cover you!" David replied as him and Ben quickly crawled towards him and Jorge. From this new vantage point, the S.W.A.T. officers could spot Lt. Monroe and Nathan hiding behind a car together and an additional Licker scuttling along the ceiling.

"We might need to call in the others," Ben whispered to his fellow officers.

"We can't!" David loudly replied, "Aside from Aaron, they're mostly carrying regular firearms. It would take them more time to down those freaks unlike what we're carrying." He looked back to Eric and Jorge, "And I'm not going to risk endangering any more of our colleagues or untrained civilians."

"Like we have any other choice, pig!" Jorge cut in, "You're the trained professionals around here, the more of you there are, the quicker we'll get out of this shithole and to some place nice and warm with good drinks and bad women!"

"Remember we're not entirely out of the woods just yet," Eric said to the criminal, "There's more of those things' creeping around outside and probably even more lurking about in the surrounding forests."

"You don't shut your trap, you'll be getting used as bait!" Ben added narrowing his eyes beneath his visor, to which the gang member responded with a middle finger.

"Hey, there are more important things right now than who will be getting used as bait," David interjected, "If you can't see already, we've got three additional Lickers to deal with and they need to be dealt with now if either one of you wishes to see another sunrise!"

The two officers could only glare vituperatively at the Rooks member, who returned their spitefulness with his own uncaring stare.

"Thank you, now if we may…" David was interrupted by simultaneous shotgun blasts from not too far away.

Two of the remaining Lickers now hovered above Lt. Monroe and Nathan who fired away madly at their assailants with fruitless results.

"We'll settle this later," Ben told Jorge as he, David and Eric stood up and fired at the creatures, managing to take down one of them right away, but the other was too relentless and didn't go down with inflicting some final bloodshed.

Lt. Monroe attempted to assist his subordinates and fired upwards at the creatures, one of which quickly fell near him, but before he could help take down the other, his shotgun clicked empty and he felt around his pockets for extra shells, feeling nothing else.

He looked up again and saw the Licker falling towards him with claw extended and attempted to leap backwards and avoid the blow, but he was too slow and strangely enough, did not register the razor-sharp claws slashing across his stomach. The lieutenant felt nothing until his body connected with the concrete and only then did he cry out in pain. A sick gurgle was all he heard and he forced his eyes open long enough to see the Joker Nathan Biggs fall over next to him with a gaping hole in his chest.

"Lieutenant!" David hollered and motioned for the others to follow him, firing upon the remaining Lickers as he made his way towards their fallen superior and he quickly fell to his knees over the fallen man. "Lieutenant, speak to me!"

Henry Monroe looked up to his fellow officer and saw the concern deep within the younger man's eyes. "Damn that bastard…he got me…" was all he said. The older man could feel the sticky blood pouring from his massive wound. He knew it was over right there. "Wait…" he uttered and reached down into his pocket and produced a photograph, a family portrait of him with his wife and four children, taken just one month ago.

"Please, take this…" he rasped offering the photo to his younger subordinate.

David looked down upon the photograph given to him, Henry Monroe, his wife Lucinda and their four children, all dressed up and looking genuinely happy to be together. Why was he giving this to him? "No…No Henry, I can't accept this! This is yours!"

"Take it please…I'm not going to make it out of here alive and I don't want my family to be forgotten. Please, just take it so I'll know something important to me has made it out of here…" the lieutenant begged before his hand fell to the floor and he breathed his final breath.

SKREEEEEEEEEE!

The S.W.A.T. officer looked up to see the same Licker that had murdered his fellow officer above him looking to claim yet another victim and with a sling of its tongue, knocked the rifle from his hands and leapt towards him.

"David look out!"

Before he could reach for the Desert Eagle he had grabbed from Kevin's desk, David was knocked from his feet as a screaming Ben collided with him head on, a sick ripping noise following as the two men sailed through the air followed by a more painful scream from his cohort.

"Oh shit, Ben!" David cried out as he realized what his friend had just done. The man had taken a blow for him and now had three large gashes across his side.

"You're going down you piece of shit!" an enraged David roared as he opened fire upon the sinewy beast, missing his first two shots, but his final connected with the monster's spinal column, sending it falling to the ground in a flailing frenzy. "Shut the fuck up!" he screamed and fired another round into the beast's exposed brain, silencing it forever. He then turned to face the remaining Licker in a tense stare down that left both sides waiting to make the first move.

TATATATATATATATATATAT!

The Licker shrieked in pain as numerous bullets were embedded in its gristly backside and it turned to hear the heavy breathing of a seriously wounded human behind it.

Sgt. Wade Foreman stood behind the beast with smoking MP5 in hand, barely held up by the strength of his one good leg alone. The recoil forced him to hold back pangs of bloody anguish as he spoke, "C'mon…over here you bastard! Now McGraw!" he shouted as the creature had turned its attention away from David.

With another pull of the Desert Eagle's mighty trigger the beast was snuffed out for good.

"Sarge, what are you doing?" Harry called out as he emerged from the van to catch the wounded sergeant before he could collapse to one knee.

"Inflicting some revenge…" Wade Foreman replied as he wrapped an arm around the chubby officer's shoulders and allowed himself to be dragged back into the van. "One of those freaks wounded me and one of my men, and have killed countless others. I'm not going to let them harm another as long as I breathe."

"Ben!" David cried as he returned his attention to his fallen friend now being tended to by Eric and Jorge.

"Ugh! That fucking bastard got me pretty good!" Ben grunted as Eric helped him remove his helmet and wiped away the sweat from his forehead. A look of grim realization crossed the man's eyes. "I don't know…if I'll be able to make it." The man spoke in a ragged gasp, his face a lined, contorted picture of agony. As quickly as it could be wiped away more sweat formed a perpetual sheet over the officer's pale visage.

"Not today, buddy, I'm not letting you off that easy." David replied as he looked at the corpses of Lt. Monroe, Nathan and all the other officers who lay dead around the room. "You can make it. You will make it. You are going to make it out of here even if I have to drag you out kicking and screaming!"

"Please, the pain is too much. I'm too far gone. Please, I'll slow you down, leave me here where I can die in peace…" Ben pleaded and then reached a shaky hand into his pockets and pulled out two fresh MP5 clips. "Here kid, take them!" he said offering the fresh clips to Eric, "You'll need them more than I do."

Just as Eric was about to accept the offering, David brought his hand up to halt him. He had heard the heartbreaking tales of his colleagues being forced to abandon their closest friends, family and co-workers to the wolves in the decaying shithole outside and he had done it himself when he had left Grant, Captain Porter, Renee and countless others to die in this madness and he was not about to abandon another in his quest to get out alive.

"Yes you can!" David ordered, the frustrated anger rising in his voice. He saw nothing but stupidity. Why was one of his closest friends in the whole world allowing himself to be left behind? Why was he allowing himself to give up while his friends would be forced to march on and suffer the guilt of having left him behind? He was beginning to grow sick of the man's nobility. He wanted his friends to live for once so they could stand side by side with him if he makes it out of this mess alive and hopefully take down whoever had caused this mess in the first place.

Gripping both sides of the officer's head he forced the man to look him straight in the eye, "You've been one of my closest friends for years. You stood by my side when I was just some young punk ass and were one of the few who helped me feel welcome in a community where I came in an unknown with no connections and nothing else to my name. Christ, you helped me get my first piece of tail in this community! You've done so much for me and now you expect me to leave you here alone, in this godforsaken hellhole so you can be feasted upon by one of those rotting zombies or skinless freaks? What's happened to you, Ben? You've become a fucking punk ass washout!"

"I'm no washout…you son of a bitch!" Ben snarled, a small trickle of blood dribbling from the side of his mouth.

"No? Then try to get up and make it out of this mess alive!" David challenged. "I'm tired of leaving my friends behind. I certainly left nobody behind when I was a Marine and I'm not going to start now."

"Fine, I'll try. Just get me something to stop the damn bleeding, and something to eat while you're at it." Ben grunted shoving one of the clips back into his pocket, but leaving the other for Eric, "I'm not letting you go without that clip, kid. You told me you were out so think of this as my way of saying welcome to the R.P.D., or rather what's left of it!"

"Uh thanks, at least somebody is giving me something I'll actually need," Eric replied eagerly accepting the fresh ammo.

"At least he's starting to act like the old Ben," David thought as his anger began to cool, "Poor bastard had me worried for a second."

The S.W.A.T. officer then turned his attention to Eric and Jorge, "Eric, search all of the bodies. I know it's going to be hard, but we're going to need all the ammo we can find. Search the cars too. Maybe they'll have a first-aid kit for Ben or an ice cold cocktail at least."

"Great, I'm not even in a fraternity and I'm still being hazed. I sure hope this isn't the way you treat all your new recruits around here." Eric said standing up and moving over to Nathan Biggs' corpse.

"Whatever," David replied and then turned to the Rooks member, "Help me get him up, it's gonna be quite the work to get him over to the van, but it's better than leaving him on the cold surface."

"Sure thing Lil' Boy Blue," Jorge taunted as he carefully placed a hand beneath Ben's right arm and David took the other. "Harry, give us a hand over here!"

"Don't worry man," David spoke to his wounded friend, "When we get out of this mess you and I are going out for beers together. Hell, maybe you could make good on your plans of buying the whole damn bar!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The remaining survivors sat in the basement corridor near the stairs leading upward to the first floor. Most of them had adamantly refused to sit in the area near the armory where the corpses of several S.W.A.T. officers lay mauled by the demonic dogs. The fact that they had not become desensitized to the smell of death showed that they still maintained parts of their sanity after having seen so much in such a short amount of time.

Out of the twenty-something civilians who had made the trip to the basement, only sixteen remained and they were all tired, hungry, filthy, battered and a few looked ready to snap at any minute.

In addition to Donald, Aaron, D.J., Parker and Rita, there were only five more uniformed officers left, Burchill and Paris among them. Amber Bernstein and George Scott were nowhere to be found and the worst had been assumed. That well-trained civilian Jake Smith had also gone missing when he was tackled through a window by one of the demon dogs stalking the premises and whether he lived or not was unknown.

Donald Byrd sat in a corner holding his beloved wife Sheila protectively close to him and gently rocked back and forth with her whispering words of encouragement, hoping she could be brought back to normal and they could share a happy moment together, but it was not to be.

Sheila Irene Byrd, the woman he had loved with all his heart and soul, the woman he had sworn to love until death did they part, was dying. Here she sat mumbling in delirium about to turn at any given minute.

Clenching his eyes shut as hard as he could he felt his heart tighten – thinking he would probably die from a heart attack if his wife didn't rip him apart first. He knew what he was about to do – because he had to do it – was difficult enough but watching her stroke his hand holding his wedding ring made matters even more complicated. She was actually trying to hold onto her humanity. He knew very well that she had requested he turn the gun on her if she were to transform, but she was actually trying to fight the urge knowing what she would put him through.

"It's funny though," Donald thought to himself as he stroked his wife's hair, "I could save David McGraw, D.J., Amber Bernstein and countless others, but I couldn't save my own family." He looked around at the other battered survivors present and knew that with the sounds of battle going on in the nearby garage he could not force them to leave, but at the same time he did not want them present for what was about to take place.

"Just something I'll have to deal with," he told himself, staring down at her head which had now fallen onto his shoulder. "She won't fight me," the thought diluting the sounds of others talking around him, "She should know how far gone she is after seeing what happened to poor Elijah. I'm sure she'll understand that I'm trying to do her a favor. She would know very well that she would not want to pass on whatever she caught from that bastard who bit her, but goddamn why did it all have to come down to this?"

"Donald, how are you holding up?" Aaron Groening's youthful voice called out from above. The veteran officer looked up to see his younger counterpart flanked from both sides by Officers Burchill and Parris. All three young men displayed fretful stares almost as if they knew what to expect.

Donald gently released the iron grip from his wife's shoulders and relaxed her against the brick wall behind them before rising up to meet his colleagues. "Trying to hold up as best I can," he explained, but then leaned in towards the three men to finish, "but I don't know about her." He looked back to his beloved bride who didn't seem to notice he wasn't there, maybe one of the earliest signs of her transformation.

"I heard one of those things in the library…bit her when you were trying to get out, right?" Burchill fearfully asked, receiving sharp glares from both Aaron and Parris like he was the one who had bitten Sheila, but softened once they saw Donald didn't care.

"You're right…" the veteran replied giving an assuring nod towards his colleague that he was not angry. The assurance melted away as he knew what else he had to say. "She's sick…the poor woman. Once you're bitten, you're never the same. You go away and then you come back…" He knew there was no easy way to tell them and was surprised that he hadn't broken down yet with the news coming from his mouth rather than that of a trained physician or scientist.

Donald looked back and stole a long stare at his wife. Her eyes were clenched shut and her teeth grated together as if in great pain. Breathing became a chore as each one grew longer and labored, but yet she found the strength to reach down and scratch away at the area on her leg where she had been bitten, which was now grossly discolored and had a puss-like substance oozing out. He had always thought if he ever saw her in such a state of suffering that he would become a mentally broken down wreck huddled in the corner lying in a fetal position completely detached from reality, but strangely, he was calm. Perhaps her love had strengthened him and prepared him for what he was about to do.

Looking silently to his younger colleagues the older man then motioned down towards his H&K VP-70 handgun and gently patted the weapon. "It's the only way."

Aaron Groening looked fearfully to his colleagues and then back to Donald, "Donald, are you absolutely sure you can do such a thing? I mean, you're her husband! That will be too much for you!"

Parris stood next to Aaron and drew his own pistol. "Are you sure, Donald? I will do it for you if I have to."

"No!" Donald retorted, unable to disguise the rising edge in his voice. "This is my fight and I do not wish to place such a burden on another soul. You have your own problems to worry about. No sense in having another innocent's blood on your hands. Believe me, I've thought long and hard about this ordeal and my wife specifically requested that I put her out of her misery if need be and so help me God I'll do it myself if I have to!"

The three men stood back defeated knowing that there was no way around this man's ironclad constitution. He didn't want to do it, but he had been given a personal mission by his wife and he was determined to carry it out by all means.

"I'm sorry, but by all means-" Donald was cut short as his wife let out a sharp gasp and then began to convulse, her limbs shaking uncontrollably until she fell back and did not move again. A nearly inaudible hiss was all that followed and nothing more.

A wave of concern fell over the other survivors and they quickly clambered over to see what was going on, having to be held back by the three other officers.

Donald only looked on in a muted shock as he stared at the woman's still body. "Oh god, is this how the transformation takes place?" he asked himself never having seen a person actually transform into one of the living dead. "Maybe she won't get back up. Maybe she'll just lay there and stay dead forever. Please God, don't make me kill my own wife!" the voice inside his head screamed.

Samantha Russell tried to move in closer towards the deceased woman, but was restrained by Donald, "No, don't go near her! She's dangerous!" Was he telling the truth? Would she really come back as one of the living dead? A mindless killer who would attack anybody in the room without second thought? "Please, everybody just get back now!"

The sound of feet dragging on the concrete came from out of nowhere as Sheila Byrd sat up and bolted back to her feet. She looked around for a few seconds before her sights focused on Donald and the other survivors, through glazed over milky white eyes. With a feral, animalistic roar she flew towards her husband with teeth bared.

"Donald!" Aaron cried out. The other officers quickly drew their guns and trained them on the zombified woman, ready to open fire the second she laid hands on her still-living husband.

"Get out of here now!" Donald screamed, roughly shoving the young officer back and knocking him from his feet while raising his handgun.

The officer turned just in time, face agape with horror as the abomination that had once been his wife flung herself against him and knocked him from his feet, striking his head against the floor and dazing him long enough for the woman to take a bite out of his right forearm.

Despite the pain and sudden realization that he himself had now been bitten and infected, Donald still could not allow his wife to harm the others and his survival instincts took over. He brought a fist up and struck her hard in the jaw, temporarily stunning her, but not hard enough to knock her off. Whatever had taken over her now lent her surprising strength and he found himself just inches away from her gnashing teeth.

A gunshot rang out and one of his wife's arms was knocked away as she took a bullet to the shoulder. Donald looked back to see Aaron standing before him with smoking handgun, knowing that he had only shot her to buy him some extra time.

"Aaron, get the others out of here now!" Officer Byrd bellow, his face creased with determination and pain as he grappled with his spouse. "Fucking do it!" Almost immediately the remaining civilians began to back up, but not without taking their eyes off the struggle at hand before them.

Bringing his fist up again, Donald struck his wife in the nose, busting it underneath the impact. Using the extra time, he now fumbled for his H&K VP-70 while at the same time trying to hold the undead woman at bay. Keeping his good hand clutched beneath Sheila's chin, he moved his hand down until he felt the cool metal grip of his sidearm and slid it out from its holster.

"I'm sorry Sheila, so sorry I could do nothing else to help. Please forgive me." Donald thought as he pressed the muzzle of his gun beneath his beloved Sheila's chin and felt everything go silent as he pulled the trigger.

Minutes later, Donald finally shot his eyes open amazed that he was still breathing. He looked down to find his beloved Sheila slumped across his body, her blood saturating his uniform. A pitiful cry escaped his lips and he pushed her aside. Tearing his eyes away from his beloved's corpse, he stared down at the very weapon he had ended her life with.

"Jesus," Donald breathed, feeling his blood turn to ice as he stared down at the cadaver of the woman he loved. "I killed my own wife…I killed my own wife!" his brain screamed. "Oh my god…" he collapsed to his knees and cradled Sheila's lifeless body in his arms. "Dear Sheila…oh my god…I-I-I'm so sorry! I'm sorry…I should've been faster!"

"Oh god, Donald are you all right?" Aaron called out from above. "Speak to us!"

Donald Byrd was surprised he even heard the man's voice as he cradled his fallen spouse. After holding them back for so long, the tears finally began to escape from his bloodshot eyes and he sunk into a fit of bitter weeping, cries of unbridled suffering.

"Donald! Donald!" Aaron cried out grabbing the man by the shoulder and shaking him.

The touch of a fellow human being, usually so warm and welcome, but now Aaron Groening placing his hand on his shoulder was a violation and he was angered. "How dare him!" he thought to himself and with a knee-jerk action, scooped up his gun and turned it on the younger officer.

"Get away from me!" he roared cocking his pistol and threatening to shoot him in hasty vigor. Rising to his feet, he waved his gun back and forth at all of the frightened people standing before him. After seconds of tense breathing, he finally began to cool when he looked into their eyes and saw that none of them meant harm, but rather shared his pain and sadness. "I'm sorry…I-I'm sorry…" he apologized bracing himself against the wall and choking back another sob. "Please…I thank all of you for your kindness, but I really want to be left alone right now."

Aaron looked the man directly in his puffy eyes and returned an understanding nod. "Okay everybody, let's get moving!" he ordered turning to face everybody and motioned for them to grab their belongings. Nobody resisted and immediately started on their way. Once everybody was out of sight he returned his attention to Donald, "Are you sure you'll be alright? You don't wanna tag along with us?

"No…thank you though" Donald nodded and gave a firm handshake. "Please, just leave me be. I'm infected now and I don't need any of you to make the same decision I just had to. Just get as many survivors out of here as you can. Now go!" he said raising his handgun like he was going to point it at the man.

"Okay, I promise. I'll try to save as many people as I can. It was a pleasure serving alongside you Donald Byrd." Aaron replied maintaining a firm grip on his co-worker's hand.

"Likewise," Donald nodded and watched as the young officer disappeared around the corner. He then returned his attention to his wife's body, "I understand now. I have nothing left. All there is to do now is die. I will see you soon my beloved. Soon you and I will be reunited with Elijah, Zoë and Martin."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Everything remained deathly quiet in the parking garage as the civilian survivors made their way in from the basement corridor. There were no cries of joyous reunion or buddies high-fiving each other in triumph, only tense silence as they could think of what awaited them after they escaped from the R.P.D. Would they find the bliss that had been robbed of them or would they walk straight into another deathtrap? In what had once been the peaceful mountain community of Raccoon City, the few pitiful survivors had learned that things are not always as they may seem and that even when things may look quiet and untouched, there could always be evil lurking around the next corner. They could only pray that they were prepared for whatever awaited them beyond the city outskirts.

Aaron and Burchill both stood near the entrance to the cell block going over last minute checks with each of the civilian survivors to make sure none of them had been bitten or scratched and then let them pass and told them to wait outside the kennel entrance.

David and Eric sat on the back ledge of the opened police van sorting through the ammunition the rookie officer had salvaged from the corpses of his fallen comrades and the parked vehicles and were handing them out to their colleagues. Samantha and Denise sat in the back of the van tending to the wounded Sgt. Foreman and Ben Dallas, the latter of whom had now been placed on a special stretcher positioned between the two rows of seats. Samantha's training was really coming in handy and had probably given the two seriously injured officers some extra time. Through further discussion, she had told of how she was one of the top students in her class and it was through visiting her uncle's workplace that had helped develop her interest in the medical field. Her uncle was none other than renowned local surgeon Dr. George Hamilton, showing that brilliance truly ran in the Hamilton family genes. It was truly a shame that she would never be able to receive her degree and go on to become a successful medical doctor, but as long as she remained alive she would prove to be an invaluable asset to her fellow survivors.

The two other rookie officers, Parker and D.J., carefully walked around the parking garage acting as sentries while talking amongst themselves about two different subjects: Parker discussing the recent football game between the McArthur Ridge Rhinos and the Cypress Heights Dragonflies, while D.J. tried to counteract with his personal critique of a recent book he picked up by the renowned radical conspiracy theorist B.J. Falkenburg, which suggested the U.S. government was plotting to control all its citizens by hypnotizing them through seemingly ordinary commercials they would see on TV everyday. It was comical to hear them trying to outdo each other, but at least it showed that they were trying to distract themselves from what was going on outside.

Harry and Rita were both in the front of the van already going over the maps they would need to follow to find the fastest way out of Raccoon City. The chubby officer insisted on driving claiming that he knew a way out like the back of his hand, but his constant edginess left her questioning if he would get them into an accident or not. She only agreed to let him drive on the grounds that he wanted to show at least some usefulness towards his fellow survivors and to redeem himself after his cowardice at the Main St. barricade.

Jorge sat in a corner smoking a cigarette and carefully checking over his weapons, including the shotgun he had picked up from Nathan's corpse. It would only be a matter of time before he was away from these pigs and then he could move on with his life, but right now he didn't have much other choice than to stick with them until he would be safe.

Elza Walker and the other nameless civilians had gathered up whatever belongings they carried on them and by now had made their way into the cell block corridor where they waited for the officers to follow them in and tell them when it would be safe to enter the sewers. They had families and friends outside of the city that they were waiting to get back to and wanted out as soon as possible.

"Alright, everybody ready to go?" Aaron called into the narrow corridor. His question was met with agreement from the civilians and then he turned to his fellow officers who would be traveling with him and then to the survivors who would be leaving via the paddy wagon.

David ordered the others into the van and then walked over to address his fellow officers. "You guys think you'll be alright down there? It will be dangerous down there trudging through all that murk and God knows what else, plus there might be more of those freaks roaming down there. I just hope whatever made them like that isn't down there and doesn't get to any of you."

"We'll be fine-," Aaron replied looking back to his colleagues, who all returned uneasy stares, "I hope. We've managed to get some maps through the sewer system and hopefully we can be into Latham by sunrise. From there maybe we'll be able to get into contact with the military and they can send in search parties for any survivors we didn't find and airlift them to safety."

"I hope you guys know what you're doing," David spoke carefully and then delivered a rigid military salute, "If I don't see any of you again, I want you all to know that it was a pleasure to have served with all of you and I hope you make it through this mess alive."

"Same to you, McGraw." Aaron replied, "I hope you manage to get in touch with those jarheads manning the barricades and let them know not everybody in this city is infected. We've seen enough death and we don't need them shooting down any more survivors."

"I heard that," David added, remembering what Kenny Feng had told him about that barricade incident where the woman had been shot down.

"Before you go, please barricade the door leading to the cell block with that van over there," Aaron asked motioning towards the empty van and then to the door. "I know it sounds fishy, but we won't be coming back and we don't need any of those zombies or Lickers getting through and tracking us down. At least buy us some time while we make our move."

"I will do that," the S.W.A.T. officer said shaking hands with each man. "Goodbye and good luck." With those words the last remaining uniformed officers disappeared through the door followed by Aaron who closed the door behind them.

David returned his attention to the police van carrying the survivors, which had now pulled out onto the driveway and the remaining one that was parked closely to where the cell block entrance was. Throwing the backdoors open he was met by the wary gazes of the survivors, "I'm going to need some help out here. I'm going to push that remaining van over there in front of the cell block entrance and I'm going to need some help. Any volunteers?"

Eric and Parker were both quick to offer their services, and surprisingly Jorge was too, claiming "I'm stuck with you pigs for now so I might as well make myself useful if I don't want another nightstick upside the head."

"Count me in too!"

The survivors all turned to find a bloody Donald Byrd standing behind them with Lt. Monroe's empty shotgun in hand. "You don't have much time left and you're going to need more help if you don't want to be overran," the veteran officer spoke, making reference to the soulless, hungry cries drifting through the nighttime air.

"Donald, thank God! We'd thought we lost you back there!" David cried out in joy, but was only met with a grim stare. "Come on," he motioned to the others and they joined the officer in front of the van. Positioning themselves in front of the van, they pushed it backwards until they had assumed they were far enough and true to their cause, the door was blocked and hopefully nothing would be able to get in after their comrades.

"Alright man," David spoke to his older colleague, "We're getting ready to get the hell out of Dodge and we could sure use the extra muscle." He was cut off by the man raising his right forearm and revealing the large hunk of skin that was missing.

"I can't go with you, I've been bitten. I'm infected with whatever those zombies have. I'm sorry, but there would be no use in me tagging along. Just focus on saving yourselves." Donald ordered as he led the S.W.A.T. officer over to the van.

"Is everybody in here?" Donald called out to those sitting in the back.

Looking in the back he spotted David along with Sgt. Foreman, Ben Dallas and Parker Lee, all that remained of the S.W.A.T. team, Eric Rawlings and D.J. Horner, both rookies fresh out of the academy, Samantha Russell and Denise Carlin, both innocent civilians caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, Harry Muntz and Rita Wilcox, probably two of the only uniformed division officers left and Jorge Ruiz, a member of the notorious Rooks street gang who had been forced to set aside his grievances with the system for his own survival.

"Oh God, Donald!" Harry called out from the driver's seat, stirring Donald's attention. The man had always been a coward, but right now there was something different about him, something that told him he was determined to get these people to safety any way he could. At least he was alive and he would hopefully go on to live through the rest of this ordeal.

"Harry, get out of here now!" Donald calmly ordered, ignoring the man's sudden panicked expression as he slammed the doors shut and then wedged Lt. Monroe's empty shotgun between the handles. "Fucking move!"

Like a scolded dog, Harry hit the gas and sped out through the parking lot and around the corner disappearing into the carnage.

Donald stood alone in a desolate parking lot armed with only his H&K VP-70 and the .38 snub-nosed revolver he had kept in his shin holster for most of the ordeal. He held both weapons limply at his side like he was readying himself for a Wild Western-style showdown and waited for the approaching zombies.

"Come on you bastards. I don't have all night, let's finish this already!" he shouted as the moans of the undead drew nearer and nearer.

"My beloved Sheila, gone. My three beautiful children, gone. My closest friends and colleagues, gone. My own community, gone. My humanity, soon to be gone. I have nothing left to lose and now all I have is to die," Donald thought to himself as he waited patiently for his assassins to appear. Soon he would be free of all the guilt and shame at his inability to defend those closest to him. He would not die a coward.

As he wished, the zombies appeared and stumbled their way through the opened gates staggering towards the wounded police officer who began walking towards them with weapons ready and no fear.

"You bastards have taken everything from me and believe me I'm going to make as many of you as I can pay for what you've done to the good people of this community."

Raising his guns defiantly, Donald only looked hatefully upon his aggressors as he squeezed the triggers, dropping two right away followed by two more in a domino effect.

"That's right, come to me! Show me what you freaks are made of!" Donald roared and kept firing into the crowd, dropping a few more before his revolver ran dry and he was just down to his H&K. "Yes, come to me Death. Take me back to everybody I ever loved!"

Donald continued firing everything he had into the approaching mob until his clip ran dry. Unafraid of those before him, he tossed the empty pistol aside and opened his arms in a wide greeting. He felt nothing as the zombies finally laid their hands upon him and instead, he found himself being taken to a nice bright place where he could hear the sounds of his children playing in the background.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

David McGraw sat in the back of the van staring down at the portrait of Henry Monroe with his family. The tears streamed down his cheeks as he read what the deceased man had written on the back.

_"Lucinda, Katherine, Colton, Vincent, Lulu,_

_"With all my love I dedicate every ounce of my being to your protection and everlasting happiness. Always remember that your daddy loves you and will never give up on any of you as long as I live. Behave for your mother and remember that I am proud of you no matter what you do._

_"With all my love,_

_Your Father"_

He held the picture close to him as if it were a child. Only now did he understand why the lieutenant had been so eager to offer him the photo. Henry Monroe wanted the love for his family to live beyond Raccoon City, a testament to everything that had been lost in this nightmare. The sadness began to slowly fade away and he could feel the vigor and determination take place as he vowed to avenge those who had fallen and bring closure to the families who had lost loved ones in this madness. By all costs, he would survive for the sake of those who had perished.

"Grant, Renee, Lt. Monroe, Donald, Mitch, Neil, Lyndon…rest assured, all of you will be avenged if I have anything to say about it and that's a promise." The S.W.A.T. officer said as he carefully slid the Monroe family photo back into the compartment he had kept it in and then laid his head back until he felt a warm, delicate hand upon his own gloved one.

Samantha Russell sat next to him offering him an assuring smile hoping to raise his spirits. She had blue eyes just like him, but only now did he notice that hers were much lighter and had a light greenish tint. Her long curly black hair fell midway down her back and still looked clean for all she had probably gone through. Despite being through Hell and back, she still looked beautiful and he could tell by the way she looked at him that she probably liked him, especially judging by the way she smiled at him when she first saw him without his helmet and balaclava.

"David, are you alright?" she asked with a touch of genuine concern that almost made him feel nice inside. "What's wrong? You can tell me."

The officer exhaled deeply knowing he wouldn't be able to lie to her, "Those people who fell tonight, I must avenge them or else their deaths will have been in vain. I can't just sit by and do nothing, I have to do something."

The young medical student suddenly looked horrified, "What? David, are you crazy? You cannot fight all those things by yourself, they will kill you if you try to take them alone. Please, let's just focus on getting out of here alive. You've come this far and look, you're not alone. There are ten other people in this van who owe you their lives thanks to your efforts and dedication. If it weren't for you, half of us probably wouldn't be sitting with you now. Trust me, saving ten lives is better than saving none at all. If you constantly put your neck on the line trying to save those around you, you're eventually going to end up in trouble yourself and you might not be as fortunate to have someone come to your rescue."

She was right, he was too eager to put his own bacon on the line to save another that he barely worried about his own well-being half the time. Despite her pep talk, it still did not discourage his sense of duty he felt to those around him at a time like this. There were innocents that needed to be protected and it was his duty as an officer of the law to protect them.

The van sped down the treacherous streets of Raccoon City past numerous zombies that seemingly came to life as it zoomed past. Its destination was the blockades on the city outskirts, where they would hopefully get the help they needed.

For its inhabitants, it had been a costly escape, but it was one they would make sure was not in vain.

A/N: Well I have completed my latest installation and as usual I hope you enjoy. I know I'm terrible at updating sometimes, but I also know if I gave out actual timelines of when to expect updates, I would probably get distracted and end up not following them. Well until next time rock on and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	26. Chapter 21: Diary of a Renegade

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Chapter 21: Diary of a Renegade

To Jake Cavanaugh, the Babel Tower's majestic sounding name completely contradicted the modest nature of the simple halls and apartments it contained beyond its fancy looking foyer, destroying the illusion that he would be hiding out in some fancy penthouse suite.

Jake climbed twelve flights of stairs with both guns drawn, encountering a few zombies along the way which had forced him to deplete half of his remaining Beretta clip and one entire speed loader for his magnum revolver. Other than that, the trip to the top floor had gone quickly and smoothly, but there were still moans heard in the distance suggesting that he had not killed all of the remaining zombies. They would be the last of his worries however as he was in desperate need of a hiding spot and was hopeful they wouldn't have the intelligence to stalk him.

Reaching the top floor he thankfully found no apparent threats and searched around for any empty dwellings he could find until he happened across the unlocked Apt. 1213 and entered to find it abandoned.

Inside the apartment was roughly the same size as the hideout he had left behind in Union City with a living room and kitchen area separated only by a counter and row of cabinets attached to the ceiling, bathroom, walk-in closet and single bedroom with a king-sized bed meant for two people suggesting that a couple had probably lived here, but he would find a shred of evidence proving otherwise.

While searching for anything useful, he happened across a notepad containing a neatly written message from the owner.

_"September 28, 1998_

_"To whoever may find this,_

_"As I write these words I find myself in a desperate race for survival. I speak the absolute truth when I say that the living dead walk the streets of Raccoon City. They stand at every corner in search of a fresh meal, attacking any living thing they possibly can. How I have made it this far I honestly do not know. Is it a curse or a blessing? I cannot say either as I have seen enough death and destruction in this nightmare to leave me unable to discern what is real and what is fantasy, but one thing is for sure, I will fight to stay alive._

_"Will I make it out of this city alive? I have no clue. Those zombies are not the only things lurking out there: demonic dogs, ravenous crows, giant cockroaches, mutated frog-like monstrosities, skinless long-tongued creatures straight out of my childhood nightmares, a spider the size of my own car! There are too many things out there to tell if I'll make it out of this night alive, but I will not give up._

"_If I do make it out I have no idea where I will flee to, but anywhere is better than here. I realize I may have not many options for getting out of here either after I crashed my car trying to avoid those things. Trying to make it through on foot alone would be suicide, the city bus system is probably out of commission judging by all the wrecks I've seen around, the city subway system is probably a no go either since I doubt anybody would be alive to operate it, plus I don't want to do anything in the darkened underground after what I've seen over the past few days, and the sewers…don't even get me started on that!_

"_I have to get out of this city no matter what. I know the R.P.D. has given the order to remain indoors, but after their "remarkable showing" against those undead freaks, I doubt it's even safe to be inside my own home. Anything is better than sitting around and waiting to die._

"_I will try and if I don't make it out alive, I will have gone down fighting and if I do survive, I will have done it for those who have perished._

"_Sincerely,_

_Nathan Farnsworth"_

Jake spent his first hour at the apartment making himself at home. He raided the man's refrigerator making a few ham sandwiches and fried up some leftover spaghetti along with a 20 oz. Loco Cola soda and some candy bars before sitting down on the cozy sofa and enjoying his meal. The man could only smile to himself as he had finally been able to sit down and enjoy a somewhat regular meal without haste. He tried the television, but as he expected he couldn't get a signal, cursing those bastards for knocking out the power. After that failed attempt he then searched the small storage box next to the TV cabinet and found nothing of use. The bookshelves carried nothing of combat value, but did contain a few horror and mystery novels and books of mythology and comic art by Wonder Comics he would read if given the time.

Up next was the bedroom where he didn't find anything else that could of any use for combat purposes, but he did find an antique typewriter where the owner looked like he had been in the process of writing his own horror novel. It was also here that Jake noticed the spectacular view the place had to offer, something that was halfway grand about the apartment.

Looking downward, Jake was granted a view that spanned almost all of Raccoon City. Everything was a disaster with car wrecks and fires burning all over the place and twice as many zombies occupying the streets. The residence also offered views of buildings he was either familiar with or had heard about.

To the northeast direction he spotted the R.P.D. building only a few blocks away from him. From the rooftop he spotted a few brief flashes of light that were probably those of a gun's muzzle. With the maelstrom taking place there and the lack of contact with the outside world he wouldn't be surprised if other survivors had been abandoned and forced to fend for themselves. The Apple Inn, the very hotel Jake and the other survivors from J's Bar had passed days ago, stood blocks away from the station gradually burning down to the ground. A fire engine could be seen fleeing from the area chased by a pack of zombies, suggesting that perhaps the local fire department had tried in vain to save one last piece of the city, but failed in their efforts. The rest of the downtown area consisted of the business district, or more appropriately what was left of it. Fires burned uncontrollably and one in particular threatened to swallow all of the Raccoon Times newspaper building. Not too far away, the bright ivory structure of City Hall stood seemingly untouched by the ravages of the mysterious virus occurring outside its concrete walls.

Towards the uptown portion of the city he spotted Raccoon General Hospital and the St. Michael's Clock Tower, the latter of which he was familiar with from viewing a postcard in a 24-7 when he had first arrived in Raccoon. In the heart of the downtown business district stood the tallest building in all of Raccoon City, a massive structure of concrete and glass with a familiar red and white logo that called out to him, mocking him.

"Umbrella…" he rasped staring at the massive Umbrella, Inc. headquarters, almost making his blood boil at how they could be so out in the open and not attract any suspicion. The mention of the insidious corporation made him think again of William Birkin, who was probably still holed up in his office somewhere at the chemical plant his daughter Sherry had mentioned if he was lucky.

There was a part of Jake that told himself Birkin was still somewhere in the city and was probably expecting assassins to be sent in after him. Nevertheless, a lowly scientist would be no match for a trained killer like him.

Sighing loudly, the career criminal returned to the living room where he had left Sebastian Ramsey's diary lying on the coffee table. He had nothing else to do and then remembered what the young researcher had told him about it containing insights into the goings-on of the Umbrella Corporation. With more time left on his hands he figured now would probably be a good time to sit down and read it.

Slowly opening the leather bound notebook he carefully studied the pages and flipped through the earliest entries which began in January 1997. The articulate, well-crafted penmanship evidenced Dr. Ramsey's youthful genius as he started out most of his entries discussing the bothersome habits of his co-workers, times out on the town with friends from work and even a scathing critique of an ex-girlfriend he was once engaged to, nothing of sheer importance to the inner workings of Umbrella.

"Come on, you've gotta have something in here about what a lovely bloodbath this city has become," Jake chuckled lightly turning the pages until he happened across something from February of last year. "Well what do we have here?"

_February 17, 1997_

_Something major happened today at work and I don't know to look at it as either a promotion or a demotion._

_The second I arrived at work I was told to report to Dr. Weatherby's office and I had no clue what was up, but I walked in with a huge lump in my stomach. Let's just say that when somebody walks into his office, they usually end up exiting without a job, so I prayed to God I wasn't in trouble._

_When I got there I found my buddy Sully and a bunch of other researchers there, most of whom I recognized from Bacteriological Research and a few from Pharmaceutical Development. At the front of the room I saw William and Annette Birkin and a few others, whatever brought them there had to be big._

_Getting down to business, Weatherby informed us that Dr. Birkin would be starting on an entirely new project and that owing its nature it would be necessary to transfer several staff members to the Viral Research Department under the orders of Beaumont Conklin, director of the Raccoon City Branch Headquarters. Most of us would be working as laboratory assistants to the existing members of the project's research team. Damn, I don't know if this is supposed to be me being knocked down the chain of command or not? Not only do I have to be somebody's lapdog now, I also gotta put up with those cynical pricks Cicero and Chisholm, but also that egotistical, self-centered son of a bitch Northwall. You'd think such a position would be a blow to his ego, but the asshole seems to be taking it pretty well. I don't know whether I should feel honored or humiliated to be here._

_Birkin was up then and he said that he had plans for "something big," but whatever it was he would not say. I've known William for a few years now and have already worked with him on other things, and I'm surprised I've made it through those last projects without being institutionalized. That guy is a nightmare to work for, not only is he arrogant, but he's also really overconfident and gets too damned impatient whenever you don't get something the first time and he has to re-explain everything to you._

_This is going to be fucking fun!_

"Heh, maybe I'll be doing Sebastian a favor if I take this fucker out after all," Jake sardonically remarked and continued paging further through the journal the researcher continued his rants about Dr. Birkin being difficult to work under and how he was about ready to blow his own brains out and how he feared for the safety of a co-worker named Goenitz after the man left some chemicals he wasn't supposed to in the wrong storage room. He continued forth until he happened across a section mentioning goings-on at the Spencer Estate facility.

_May 27, 1998_

_Man, I'm seriously worried about my colleagues up at the Spencer Estate. Nobody has seen or heard anything from them since the beginning of the month, absolutely nothing, not even the tiniest peep!_

_I've never been to the Spencer Estate, but I've heard a rumor that's where the company conducts some of its most top secret experimentation. I don't understand why they should be so secretive about developing a cure for all known cancers, which is what we are doing, is it not? I sure hope I hear something from them pretty soon. I have a buddy up there working as an animal keeper. I know they keep all sorts of dogs up there with campers and such. Can't forget that incident from a few years back where those bank robbers escaped from the maximum security penitentiary and tried breaking in hoping they would find all sorts of priceless valuables._

_All I know about that place is that it was built back in the '60's by some brilliant architect named George Trevor and was going to be a home for him and his family, but then they all mysteriously disappeared. Shortly thereafter, Ozwell E. Spencer, one of our company's original founders, purchased the place and it has been under his name ever since. That was over 30 years ago so I don't know if the guy is still alive or not. I've only seen exterior shots of the place from pictures in Dr. Travers' office, it looks beautiful and if by some unseen chance I were to win the lottery, I would so buy that place._

_May 28, 1998_

_The Spencer Estate has practically been the talk of the office today, I swear not a single minute passed where I didn't pass Norton and Rohmer ignoring their work in the cubicle next to me and chit-chatting about what the thought had happened._

_Yesterday, the mutilated remains of a 20 year old woman were fished out of the Marble River not too far away from the estate. Right away the police suspect the attack was executed by either a wolf or grizzly judging by the depth of teeth marks, but my co-workers as usual were quick to spread the rumors. Hell, I almost couldn't eat my lunch today I was so grossed out to my stomach as the gossip took a new turn and started getting just downright gruesome._

_Calhoun, Otis and Spool were spreading all these disgusting rumors about our company conducting experiments on human beings, plants and animals and I was almost appalled to the point of going over there and overturning the table and telling them all to shut the fuck up. Christ I swear some people have no common decency!_

_Apparently the rumors must've made their way to the offices because after I got back from break the guards were moving up and down the aisles and the second anybody said anything including the words "Spencer Estate," they grabbed onto your shoulder and told you to keep it down or else you'd be sent directly to the director's office. I had no problem keeping my mouth shut, but some O'Donnell guy wouldn't and he was led away, showing they weren't bluffing._

"Talk about company policy," Jake remarked moving onto the next entry.

_May 30, 1998_

_Today must have been an important day because some of the top members of the executive board showed up._

_I don't know what their business here was, but damn every time one of them walked by we couldn't make a peep and the looks they gave us were enough to kill, hell they would've all been on death row otherwise._

_Jackson Cortlandt, Sidney Warwick and Jay Reston, all well-known (and feared) figures in the Umbrella chain of command. There was also a fourth man with them, a man I have never seen before in a black suit with dark, slicked back hair who seemingly appeared from the shadows and was reported to be popping up from nowhere throughout the day like he was the Grim Reaper in human form. That had to be the one and only Mr. Trent I've heard so much about._

_I almost had to thank God that they spent most of the day away from my division, or else I probably would've keeled over from a heart attack right then and there._

"Jackson Cortlandt? Sidney Warwick? Jay Reston? Trent? All higher up on the Umbrella chain of command? I'm surprised I wasn't sent after any of those clowns," Jake added and moved further on until he reached the entries from late July and then things really start picking up. Reports of bizarre murders occurring in the woods, strange animal sightings, citizens demanding action, the R.P.D.'s chosen course of action, the disappearance of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team and the ever heightening paranoia amongst Sebastian and his co-workers all described in numerous entries that left the career criminal glued to the pages and mumbling sentences to himself repeatedly until he reached one large climactic entry.

_July 25, 1998_

_Words cannot describe what has just occurred up at the Spencer Estate._

_Yesterday, the R.P.D. sent in its elite S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team in search of Bravo Team and any surviving hikers only to result in a catastrophe ending with the destruction of the mansion itself and the deaths of the entire scientific staff and two-thirds of the S.T.A.R.S._

_The incident has been all over local headlines and once again, it was the hot topic at the office, I knew this would be inescapable._

_From what I've heard, only five members survived altogether and they recited numerous claims of bizarre monsters they supposedly encountered, ranging from mutated ape-like lizards to giant spiders to the living dead! I have no idea what is going on here and none of the higher-ups want to talk about it. I have friends who were stationed at that facility and I need to know what is going on here!_

_Sully and Ash are trying to be there for me, but I won't have closure until I know what exactly happened in that building. Ugh, this is gut wrenching for me!_

_Until then I'm going to try and take this matter one day at a time. We're talking about going to Grill 13 after this is over and maybe for a few drinks at Bar Jack. Thanks to dumbass Ash, we can't go to J's Bar anymore after he sexually harassed that one popular waitress, Cindy I think her name was. Yep, it got pretty messy and it resulted in him nearly getting into a brawl with some antisocial plumber guy and some off-duty cop. Thankfully there was another cop and these two security guards there who stepped in and broke the thing up, save me the money of having to bail his ass out._

_July 27, 1998_

_Once again I have no idea what is up, but for some reason there were all these military-looking types walking around the office and labs today. I tried listening in on their conversations and I managed to pick up some tidbits about how they would "probably have to plan a reconnaissance mission into the Arklay Mts. Area to root out the remaining threats" and "retrieve samples for the Viral Research Department."_

_Apparently they came after more reports of bizarre monster sightings and murders came in, including one resulting in the deaths of two police officers. The pressure has really been getting turned up on the company and maybe there's a part of me that's starting to believe that maybe there was more going on up in the Spencer Estate than what we were told. Just the presence of these military types has to speak volumes unto itself and if I say anything, I'll probably end up with a bullet in my head._

_There was this one guy there though that gave me the creeps in particular. He had snow white hair and these icy blue eyes and I swear his face must've been made of ice too because he hardly moved a muscle while he was there and didn't say a word, just looking us over like he was inspecting livestock about to be sold on the market._

_I really need a walk and bad. Been forever since I've been to Raccoon Park, maybe I should stop there and visit Grandma Gertie's grave while I'm at it, been awhile since I've done that too._

The first entry listed in August was another to catch the career criminal's attention, one where he sensed that the deceased researcher began to foreshadow his own demise.

_August 1, 1998_

_Oh my god…it is 3 in the morning and I can't sleep a wink after what happened today. I have been transferred to a different division, one involving the very kind of experimentation they talked about supposedly occurring at the Spencer Estate, proving that those gossips were not pulling shit out of their asses after all._

_As soon as I arrived at work, I was met by Drs. Weatherby and Brea and then given a hazmat suit and told to suit up right away because "I was being promoted." Some promotion I was about to receive and I'm nearly wanting to jump out the window writing this, but I have to because it will do me no good to hold it in forever._

_I was immediately taken to this elevator leading to the sub-basement levels and finally shown this area that reminded of Fort Knox, but with enough security to make that place look like a cellar. What I saw beyond those doors will haunt me for the rest of my living days; something that looked like it was out of a science fiction movie gone terribly wrong._

_There were all these large tubes with creatures that looked like they were straight out of those trashy comics Uncle Johnny passed down to me when he died: those ape-like amphibians mentioned by S.T.A.R.S., these hideous creatures that looked like a human being, monkey and spider all spliced into one, skinless, sinewy creatures with their brains exposed and tongues about as long as their bodies, white apes with sores all over their bodies, a giant scorpion! You name it I probably saw it down there! But that wasn't the worst part that scared me._

_Strapped to tables, locked in cells, being fed to those creatures were people! Living, breathing people taken off the streets to be experimented upon by my own employers! My own fucking employers!_

_Now I know those S.T.A.R.S. members weren't crazy, they were telling the truth all along. My company sure played its cards right knowing that nobody would believe them because such beasts are believed to only exist in the deepest, darkest imaginations of film directors looking to score the next great horror classic, plus that nobody would believe them because this company employs so many people in my town._

_I wanted to leave, but before I could they showed me another sight I will never forget. Pointing to a table strapped down was one of my closest friends, or who had been my closest friend Sully, lying with a bullet in the side of his head. Apparently he had been brought down and threatened to tell the public and then tried to play hero, only to pay for his efforts. They told me that the same would happen to me if I tried telling anybody and that they wouldn't stop with me, but my entire family as well! _

_What the hell kind of company am I working for that would do such thing to its own employees?_

_I went to school and studied virology because I wanted to develop a cure for cancer after watching my beloved grandfather suffer from its ravages, not help contribute to the end of the human race._

_What am I going to do?_

"Man…" Jake muttered aloud, visibly disturbed by what he was reading. "Now I know why the poor guy wanted me to leave him behind in the station. Umbrella wouldn't hesitate to shoot one of its own dead at the drop of a hat." The concept was nothing new to the career criminal as he too had worked for similar employers with bloodthirsty reputations that Umbrella probably paled in comparison to, but then again Umbrella appeared to be a legitimate organization on the surface that kept so many people entranced with their products that nobody would suspect a thing.

_August 5, 1998_

_I don't even know how I can sleep at night, let alone get out of bed in the morning. Everyday I go into that chamber of horrors dreading what my company will do next and whose lives will be ruined all for the sake of their precious bio-weapons program. Right now I feel sick to be alive and want to put a bullet in my own brain and end it all, but then there's that voice telling me what good will it do? Frankly there isn't much else I can do._

_Umbrella is a worldwide company employing thousands of people all over the globe. To the public they are the world's leading manufacturer in pharmaceuticals and have branched out into all sorts of health and beauty products and tons of other stuff that would be too numerous for me to mention. They put on a pretty face donating to charities all over the globe and starting all kinds of programs to help the needy when in fact those "poor needy people" are most likely to end up as their test subjects so they won't draw any unwanted attention upon themselves._

_There isn't a day that goes by where I don't kick myself mentally for joining Umbrella. The money and benefits were too damn enticing for a young nobody like me working for a Nobel Prize, but now I wish I could just tell them to take those benefits and shove them where the sun don't shine. I wish I could, but then I would probably end up ran over in the parking lot like that one Britton guy did yesterday. They had been watching that poor bastard for quite sometime suspecting that he was about to go public with his findings and then they do that to him. I've been overhearing that this company has contacts over in Raccoon General too; who would knowingly lie to the man's family and say that he was "accidentally" ran over._

_My co-worker Frost seems to share my concern and I'm forever grateful or else I probably would've shot myself right now. He's more scared of that Monica Lewis bitch he has to work under. I've seen her in action and she's the ice queen of all ice queens, I can't believe how she can be so unfazed by some of the stuff she helps create. All in the name of the almighty dollar this is for, biological warfare that could easily turn today's third world country into tomorrow's toxic wasteland._

_I should've followed Mom's advice and been a graphic designer. Hell, right now I'd be happy being some homeless beggar on the street corner waiting for my next drink!_

_August 15, 1998_

_I am thankful to be alive after what happened today, I can't believe I'm actually saying that given whom I work for._

_That bastard William Birkin showed up today having to test out his precious "G-Virus" he's had me working on for the past few weeks and had a big test set up down in the B-4 testing facilities. The whole deal started out "innocently" enough on some homeless drifter they pulled in off the streets and then moved onto other human subjects, who all displayed symptoms of the cannibal disease in T-Virus carriers and soon broke through their cages and began attacking members of the team. One of them then managed to get loose and destroy the panel of a cage holding several of the MA-121's or "Hunters" as they have been dubbed by the staff, who then proceeded to wreak havoc and kill several more members of the research team and security force. It got bad enough they had to call in the Umbrella Special Services to clean up the mess._

_For the millionth time I curse myself for ever joining Umbrella and right now I'm so hoping karma comes back to bite those money grubbing fuckers in the ass._

"It certainly will my friend," Jake said aloud as he pictured himself putting a bullet in William Birkin's skull.

_August 17, 1998_

_As I feared, the incidents within these walls are beginning to leak out into the public._

_I read the newspaper yesterday morning and was shocked to find the headline read "COUPLE EATEN ALIVE." Apparently some dog walker found two horribly mutilated bodies in Raccoon Park hidden in some undergrowth; no doubt this has to be the doing of our experiments._

_I want to jump out of the window reading that headline, now innocents on the outside have perished because of this company's greed and foolishness. It's only a matter of time before more innocent bystanders fall before these monstrosities unless something happens and I doubt that ever will._

_The company higher-ups are closely monitoring this situation and on the alert for possible future attacks with cleanup crews on standby. Just what we need, cleanup crews to cover the tracks of those who deserve punishment._

_I've overheard Birkin chatting with Drs. Barkalow and Aulander and he talks about Chief Irons being on the company payroll, yes the chief of our fucking police department who is supposed to serve and protect the innocent is on our goddamned payroll! Now I know I can't go to my old friend Jameson because I would just be putting him in danger too._

"So fat boy Irons is in on this bullshit too?" Jake spoke without surprise. "I knew there was something up with that guy from the beginning, I could smell it in his drawers from here to Hong Kong," he chuckled and continued on.

_August 20, 1998_

_I saw that bastard Birkin at work again today, doing his usual inspection of how his precious new virus is coming along, "his life's work as he calls it." The "G" or "God Virus" as he has dubbed it, meant to make the "Tyrant Virus" look pitiful in comparison. Apparently he's been on some quest to achieve immortality for quite some time now and he's willing to bend back the will of Mother Nature in order to do so. That arrogant prick is only asking for trouble in doing what he does, he's going to get us all killed. How he can knowingly experiment on living people with a straight face I have no clue, but he is insane!_

_I've worked alongside the man's wife, Annette her name is. I swear that ice cold and emotionless bitch is almost as driven by her work as that asshole husband of hers is, maybe that's what she saw in him when they first got married. That's a Birkin for you; work takes precedence over everything else in their lives._

_Probably the only person I feel any pity for in that family is their daughter Sherry. I have met her before, a sweet girl and all around seems like the perfect daughter for anybody to have, it's sad those two have their heads so far up their own asses they don't even realize what they're doing to that poor girl by neglecting her like that. She seems to have no idea what her parents really do and she is very fortunate. I wish I had no clue what I was doing and if I could go back in time I would've left long ago. It's quite terrifying to watch all the young men and women who work here becoming part of something evil without even realizing it and I wish I could tell them what was really going on, but it would mean my own death and probably theirs as well. Right now I'm probably at a point where dying would seem like a welcome option, but to have any more innocent blood on my hands than what I've already got, that is just not me._

_August 23, 1998_

_I never thought I would say this, but for the first time since I've been assigned to this accursed division I think I might have finally found a breakthrough in all of this madness, a sympathetic face who can assist me in getting back at these fools for all the mayhem they have caused._

_Alyssa Redmond confided in me that she may have some connections outside of the company who have been watching Umbrella for quite sometime and might be able to help us out. She told me that she's frightened for both herself and her family, but knows she has to carry on working no matter what. She tells me this contact of hers has been giving her secret equipment to use in taping discussions all over the labs wherever she can get it and then turns it over to her contact. It's nice to finally have some hard evidence against these unholy sanctimonious bastards that will hopefully put them away forever and allow them to never harm an innocent being ever again._

_August 26, 1998_

_Today Alyssa came in and gave me a special ring provided by her "contact." It isn't really a ring, but rather a secret micro spy camera hidden inside of one designed to look like a regular sapphire ring. She told me it would be necessary at gathering evidence for where I would be working today._

_I was assigned to the T-002 laboratory today where researchers are working on building another "Tyrant" similar to what they supposedly kept at the Spencer Estate laboratory. I laid eyes on the thing and I nearly fainted, the thing was hideous!_

_It stood about eight feet tall and was completely bald with a pale grayish colored skin and these soulless white eyes that could strike fear into even the bravest man's heart. A mountain of muscle it was with one massive hand capable of breaking down a brick wall in a matter of seconds and where its other hand should be, there was this gigantic claw that could cut through an entire platoon in one fell swoop. Most notably it had a regular human looking heart on the outside of its chest, showing that whatever this thing was it had once been an ordinary human._

_Duchovny was next to me babbling on about how "only one in ten thousand people exposed to the T-Virus would be able to transform into a Tyrant, while the rest would transform into weak, mindless zombies." The moron was also babbling on about creating a super army out of these things, super soldiers impervious to bullets, grenades and even death itself. The thought made me sick to my stomach. One of these mockeries of human nature was enough, but ten more of these things? Enough to send shivers up and down my spine._

_I managed to get some good shots of the abomination and of the researchers involved in this project hoping that I would have enough evidence to forward to Alyssa so she could turn it over to her contact. It felt good and bad at the same time, horrible knowing that I had contributed to making something so vile and disgusting that it could destroy all of humanity if leaked out into the open, but I will feel some relief in knowing that I have helped in bringing its demise._

"I was right, not everybody in Umbrella is as evil as thought to be," Jake repeated to himself remembering what he had thought all along. "Just poor folks with their own lives and families trying to survive, if they're not threatened into staying, then they are there for the purpose of putting food on the tables." He flipped through a few more entries talking about Sebastian's anxiety before coming across the one about finally meeting this mysterious contact of Alyssa's.

_September 3, 1998_

_Today was finally the day we were going to meet Alyssa's contact. From what I hear, Umbrella monitors the lives of its employees outside of the workplace too, so we went under the cover of going on a date together. Our destination was this abandoned hotel dangerously close to the outskirts of the city, so we had to be on the lookout at all times._

_We took the subway there, which largely went by uneventfully aside from this annoying attendant with this hideous blonde hair who was working on this puzzle book and then tried to work up the nerve to ask out some cute brunette and even flipped some "good luck coin" or something trying to gather the courage and when he finally did ask, she just laughed at him and walked on, ranting the rest of the way about how "his life was shit" and other things._

_At around midnight we finally reached our destination and walked in to meet some guy named "Fortune." The room we entered was this dark, rundown suite and Alyssa ended up saying this weird code to which the man "revealed" himself. I never got a look at the man's face as he stood in the shadows and the cocking of a pistol indicated that we had better not come any closer or else he wouldn't hesitate to shoot us. I don't blame the man for being paranoid as I'm that way on a daily basis. Alyssa turned over some documents she had managed to collect from the office and labs and then I turned over the microfilm from the T-002 lab. He told us both that he was part of some secret underground "resistance" that has been looking to take down Umbrella for quite some time, but yet they lack the manpower and resources to go at them head on. It will take time, but we will get them._

_The man thanked us and told us that he wanted us to continue gathering whatever evidence we could against Umbrella and as a token of appreciation, gave us each Beretta M92F handguns for use in case we ever encountered a "sticky situation."_

_"That was a good time" Alyssa jokingly told me, but in a strange way I almost considered it a real date. I've been quite fond of that woman for sometime now and I'd definitely like to do more with her in the future, I just hope our next "date" can be the usual dinner and a movie rather than "meeting with the mysterious informant."_

"I wonder if this "Fortune" character is still around." Jake thought to himself. Whoever the guy was, he probably wanted to get at Umbrella as badly as the criminal himself did.

_September 8, 1998_

_Ever since the meeting with "Fortune" both Alyssa and I have continued gathering evidence for him and his people. As I speak, the guy's contacts must be carrying out operations against top-ranking Umbrella staff members._

_On the very night of our meeting, Dr. Duchovny's house was destroyed by a mysterious explosion with the man and his family still inside. From what the police claim, a faulty boiler caused the blast, but I have my doubts because the guy claimed to be such a self-styled handyman and everything in his house "was always in fine working order."_

_Two days later, police found the flaming wreck of Dr. Barkalow's car on the side of I-96 and on the same night across town, some burglar broke into Dr. Aulander's house and shot the guy dead in his sleep._

_Whatever is going on, these incidents have made the company higher-ups nervous and are on a witch hunt for anybody who might know anything, suspecting corporate sabotage within the ranks. If they discover what Alyssa and I are in on, both of our lives will be in serious jeopardy._

"Could this Fortune person be my mysterious benefactor?" Jake now thought as he tried to analyze what must have been going through Dr. Ramsey's head.

_September 14, 1998_

_Alyssa called me in the middle of the night tonight in a panicked frenzy. She thinks they might be onto her. She doesn't know how they could have found out about her subterfuge because she's been so careful, but now she feels the shit has hit the fan and she's going to get the hell out of this town as fast as she can. Right now she can't go to her parents in Springvale fearing that it would endanger them, but she is trying to get a hold of Fortune hoping that he and his people can provide her with shelter until this mess blows over._

_I offered to come along with her, but she told me to stay behind claiming that it would create too much suspicion if two researchers were to vanish at once and she's right, but I hate to let her go like that. She's all alone with nobody to watch her back now._

_Damn it, I'm too worried to sleep now. I think I'm going to pay a visit to Grill 13 and have some early breakfast, hopefully that will calm me down a little._

_September 16, 1998_

_As I expected, Alyssa has not been seen or heard from in the last two days and strangely, nobody appears to suspect anything, not even asshole Birkin._

_Speaking of the devil, that guy has been increasingly paranoid lately. He's starting to suspect that the head honchos at White Umbrella might be onto him now and he's become hostile to everybody around him, his wife is probably the only person who can go near him without nearly getting their head bitten off._

_I too have been getting really paranoid and take my gun almost everywhere with me. I'm trying to stay as calm as I possibly can, but I have a feeling it will only be a matter of time before things start up again._

_September 19, 1998_

_There have been cases of the T-Virus in the city now and nobody knows what to do. I swear not a single day goes by where we haven't been hearing reports of dead bodies turning up all over the city or another new patient being admitted to Raccoon General displaying symptoms of the "cannibal disease" as the public calls it. My mother called up yesterday and wanted me to get out of town before it's too late, but I can't just up and leave or else the company will send out some of its U.S.S. goons to track me down and kill me without hesitation and then cover up my death and make it look like an accident._

_Mom, Dad, Lucia, Amos…oh God I don't know what I'd do with myself if something were to happen to any of them. I've lost friends to this madness, but my own family…I wouldn't be able to bear the thought of that._

_September 22, 1998_

_A wave of paranoia has been washing over me and only continues to rise with every passing minute. Everywhere I go I have my gun with me and I jump the second something comes out of the shadows, thinking it's going to be a zombie, one of those U.S.S. goons or worse. Just tonight I received a mysterious phone call from Fortune, my first time hearing from him since that meeting back on the 3rd. He tells me to have my gun ready in the coming days because something big will be going down tonight and it might involve a high-ranking scientist._

_Could it be Birkin? For all I know he's spent the last 48 hours locked up in his private P-4 laboratory working feverishly on that damned virus of his. If not then could it be somebody else like Weatherby? Something is going on and a lot of people haven't been showing up for work lately, hell I'm surprised nothing has happened to me yet._

The next entry caused Jake's eyes to nearly leap from his skull. He traced a finger carefully across the entire paragraph and read it to himself aloud to make sure he was not hallucinating.

_September 23, 1998_

_All hell is breaking loose. Last night, Dr. Birkin was assassinated by members of the U.S.S. sent by White Umbrella to retrieve his G-Virus sample. In doing so, those idiots accidentally spread the T-Virus into the sewers and now everybody is getting sick at a manic pace. It will only be a matter of time before the entire city is infected. God I should have left with Alyssa when I had the chance._

"What the fuck? Birkin is already dead?" Jake said nearly dropping the journal, "If Birkin is already dead then why the hell am I here? Christ I've been sent on a fucking wild goose chase!" he roared and overturned the coffee table with a powerful soccer kick. "Motherfucker…" he hissed standing over the demolished table breathing heavily as he tried to cool down. "Now I know somebody will be dying for sure if I make it out of this mess. Birkin is dead, now I have to worry about keeping myself alive so I can track down whoever sent me here and personally "thank them" for my all expenses paid trip with a bullet to the skull, no wait…that would be too merciful even for them." He saw that he still had a few pages to go and would read to see if Dr. Ramsey had anymore useful information.

_September 24, 1998_

_By now the T-Virus is becoming too widespread to contain and martial law has been declared. Nobody can get in and nobody can get out. We are now trapped in this infernal hellhole and left to fend for ourselves. The company representatives have told us to stay and await rescue from the U.B.C.S., but how can I be sure that they will really be here to rescue me instead of carting me away to some secluded location and then blowing my brains out to silence me so I can't tell the public? They can afford to lose me, I'm just some lowly researcher who might have contributed jack shit to their cause, but still they don't care. As I write this I imagine they are probably airlifting executives out by helicopter, just shows you how deep loyalty runs in this company. Only now have I had the courage to call my old friend Jameson and try to get him to help, but him and the other officers have been too busy trying to contain unruly citizens all over the city. "Unruly citizens" my ass, this is the living dead we are talking about here! They need to put a bullet in their rotting heads to put them down for good! Then again, I doubt any of them would listen to me because "zombies don't exist." If only they could get a clue with what's going on out on the streets right now!_

_After work today I am so going to Kendo Gun Shop to buy myself a shotgun for the apartment, that way if any of those freaks decide to come knocking on my door, I'll have a surprise for them alright._

"Martial law alright," Jake snorted as he thought about his own attempts to get into the city. He had arrived in town days ago only to be met by a military blockade, telling him that nobody got in and nobody got out. Not even lies of having family members in the area could get him in, so he would be forced to sneak his way into town. Ditching his car at a nearby rest stop, he later snuck his way through the woods thankfully encountering no threats and then found a side street from where he was able to walk onto a crowded street and blend in with the crowd.

_September 25, 1998_

_I might have found another possible breakthrough in my quest to bring down my insidious employers._

_Through surfing the 'net, I have managed to come across several articles by an award-winning investigative journalist named Kip Willows who has been known for writing some pretty scathing articles about my "beloved employers" and after some careful "detective work," I managed to find some articles regarding the functions of the T, G and T-Nemesis strains. Now I'll really give him something to talk about._

_The rioting gets worse in the streets every passing moment. When I look down I see nothing but people either fighting amongst themselves or with the police. Looting and vandalism are pretty bad too and I've heard a few crashes in my building, I'm surprised they haven't come after me yet, but I've got my loaded shotgun and my Beretta by my side and am ready to go when need be._

_September 26, 1998_

_As I write these words I am cooped up in Dr. Garland's office armed with the Beretta Fortune gave me and am surviving off a bunch of treats I managed to scrounge up from the nearby vending machines. Things have descended into pure madness and nearly everybody around me has turned into one of those "things." The infection rate has increased dramatically over a 24 hour period and none of our security guards or the U.S.S. were able to contain it. I imagine none of our top executives – maybe even the Inner Circle members themselves – expected things to be this bad, but they are. Not many of us are left, from what I've seen around only twenty-something, and that was hours ago meaning half of them are probably dead already. Just goes to show how careless those arrogant bastards were._

_Alyssa was smart in fleeing the city before all this madness could begin, at least she hasn't had to witness half the crap I've had to. You can't set foot anywhere without an entire army backing you up and with the rate this disease is spreading, I doubt even they would have enough ammo to hold them off._

_I know Weatherby is among the survivors I saw last, clutching a shotgun he had found for dear life. His last order was to terminate all current test subjects and then dispose of their remains in the incinerator, but there are too many of those things running around and not enough people around to stop them. Him being a project manager and everything, I know he'll probably try to escape with all the data and take credit to earn himself a fatter paycheck, the greedy bastard. I've seen Carter and Linda running around too, overhearing both of them talking about trying to find a cure for the T-Virus, but are they too late? Has this virus spread too far for them to contain? Time will only tell, but how much time do they have left? Other than those three, I've seen Kirchner, Braddock, Malden, Vega, Hagen and Spreckles running around in various areas all fighting for their lives. I know it's probably thinking big, but I hope they're alright._

_Damn, I'm able to hear some of those freaks banging on the door as I write with shaky hands, those who used to be my co-workers. There has to be at least five of them out there, waiting to rip me apart and bite into me like a midnight snack. I'm not even safe in here, but I'm not about to fret, I managed to get my hands on a layout of the building's ventilation system. From what I've found, I might be able to crawl out through this vent and into a nearby parking garage. Hopefully I'll be able to make it to the station at least. I doubt even they would have this situation under control, but I hope they have some kind of escape planned. Beats the hell out of sitting around and waiting for those freaks to rip me apart, that or the U.S.S. spooks coming and turning me into Swiss cheese upon first sight. I really have no other options._

_For those who are probably still stuck inside fighting for their lives, I can only wish them the best of luck._

_September 27, 1998_

_It is now daylight hours and I have finally escaped from the office building, I didn't make it to the parking garage as planned, but a detour led me to the main lobby and thankfully there were no major threats there. I originally wanted to get to the parking garage so I could hotwire a car and get as far away as I could, but now I see that wouldn't have been necessary. There are wrecks all over the place and zombies walking around in massive groups that would be nearly impossible to plow through. Those things come from everywhere, the shops, the alleys, the sewers…I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if they started climbing out of the ground like they do in the movies. I nearly got ran over by a bus on my way out and more of those things started piling out, driven only by their endless hunger. All I could do was run._

_I must've ran five blocks or so, but everything around me was a blur until I finally found some living, breathing police officers who were trying to hold the zombies off with regular handguns, shotguns and even submachine guns firing everything they had into those beasts and still they wouldn't go down. I already know that from my experiences in the building, but to see others on the streets fighting against them, it just blew my mind._

_We must've ran and ran some more until we encountered a group of five survivors: David McGraw, the S.W.A.T. officer, officers Donald Byrd and Eric Rawlings, and those two civilians Samantha Russell and Denise Carlin, all of whom were running from even larger groups. Thankfully we weren't too far away from the R.P.D. and managed to get inside with the help of the officers manning the barricades. I found Jameson too, the poor guy's scared half to death and wanting to get out of the town even more than I do, but we're going to have to wait a while until the station higher-ups can come up with some sort of escape plan. It will have to come from them because I highly doubt the U.S. government will send a cavalry into this mess to rescue a few pitiful survivors. If we're going to make it out then we'll have to work together._

At last Jake came to the very last entry, which as he expected ended with today's date.

_September 28, 1998_

_It has been very tense these past 24 hours here in the station and already several officers have fallen to the attacking zombies and even more have been wounded. They have several wounded officers and civilians in the cafeteria and evidence room right now, but I doubt any of those people can be saved and should just be put out of their misery before they can transform and harm any more innocents._

_I've seen plenty of survivors wandering around, none of whom appear to know anything at all about the cause of this outbreak, only I know anything about this mess and I sure as hell wish I didn't. I'm sure Chief Irons might know something too since the fat toad was on Umbrella's payroll as well. I haven't seen him yet, but I've heard that he's been staying out of sight and keeping himself locked up in his creepy little office. No doubt he's probably plotting to save his own bacon._

_So far I've spent most of the time keeping to myself, only engaging in small conversations with a few of the other civilians just so I don't draw too much suspicion upon myself, but I can't say too much because doing so would put them all in even more danger than what they already are. I don't know if Irons is the only R.P.D. mole on the Umbrella payroll or not, and I sure as hell don't want to find out._

_Earlier today the surviving R.P.D. higher-ups were in the briefing room devising escape plans, the first of which would involve airlifting the survivors to the city airport and then boarding them onto any available aircrafts and flying them to someplace safe. The second involves sending them down through the sewers and working their way through until they reach some other town like Springvale, Latham or Rose Bay, and then the last which would involve gathering up a select few survivors and loading them into a van and sending them to try reaching the main military blockade on the outskirts of the city. If you ask me, none of those ideas sound very good, especially the second one where those unarmed, untrained and undisciplined civilians might possibly stumble across Umbrella's secret sewer laboratory. I don't know if there are any experiments or surviving staff down there right now, but either way would spell trouble for them. I doubt they'll be able to find their way into the secret underground research facility because the only known entrance is behind this waterfall and they would need the Golden Eagle and Silver Wolf medallions to clear the falls and get inside. The sewage disposal plant manager, Jeff Salinger, holds the Golden Eagle medallion and the Silver Wolf medal, I have no clue who holds that, let alone where it went to. The place does hold a secret high-speed train that leads to another facility in Germanton, but then that would only lead them straight into more trouble. Besides, that place is probably already crawling with monsters by now and we don't need any more of them._

_I continue socializing with the survivors as I have spent most of my time in the station library and have come to get to know a good group of people, but it is sad that we had to become acquainted under these circumstances. Ace, the biker and his friend who were just passing through, Joshua Silvers, the rookie who was just starting out, Elza Walker, the young college student, Jake Smith, an out-of-towner passing through innocently enough for a vacation, even Dr. Birkin's own child is stuck wandering the halls of this virtual prison, all people who truly didn't deserve to be caught in a situation like this and it's partially my fault because I worked for the people who caused this mess, but sitting around and crying about it will do me no good._

_I have to help these people any way I can, even if I have to die trying. I hope it will ease my conscience knowing that I am trying to undo a great wrong and even if I do die, I will die trying to redeem myself for what has been done. I never have been a religious man, but I sincerely hope God can find it in his heart to forgive me knowing that I was unjustly forced into serving the Devil at the expense of my loved ones. I will have my redemption one way or another, Sebastian Ramsey will not die a monster!_

_This may very well be my last entry and I want to get as much as I can off my chest before I go. Up until a few days ago I had always feared Death and its cold, unforgiving embrace, but from what I have seen I now realize there are worse things out there in this cruel world. I am no longer afraid to die and I will die fighting for the sake of all the innocents who have perished in this great tragedy._

_Sebastian Clarke Ramsey_

With the last entry read Jake closed the diary and set it on the couch next to him. It had been a mind-blowing look into the inner workings of the Umbrella Corporation and he had a feeling it wouldn't be his last. At the same time a great anger welled up inside of him as he now realized that William Birkin had been dead all along and he had risked his life several times over the past few days for absolutely nothing. Now the only thing that would matter to him was escaping from Raccoon City alive.

CRASH!

"Who's there?" Jake whispered loudly. A loud crash had just come from the bedroom, meaning that something was trying to get into the apartment. Scooping up his S&W M629C, he quickly made his way into the small hallway and hugged his back to the wall and inched closer and closer until he was at the bedroom door. "Here goes," he thought to himself and kicked the door open.

The career criminal entered the darkened room with gun drawn to find the window overlooking the entire city had been opened and an old vase had been knocked from the owner's desk. A Licker or Hunter had to be in the building; no way would an ordinary human being be able to reach him from outside when he was on the top floor.

"What the…" Before he could say anything more, Jake heard the same heavy, rapid paced footsteps he had heard when he picked up the manila envelope left for him when he first accepted his mission, and they were coming from right behind him!

"Shit!"

Jake whirled around on his heel as fast as he could, but before he could utter a single word, a black gloved fist drove its way into his face and then everything went dark.

POW!


	27. Chapter 22: The Rookie and the Lady

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Chapter 22: The Rookie and the Lady

The last thing he saw before everything went black was a single black gloved fist driving its way into his face.

Jake bolted up in a cold sweat and sat there panting heavily and looking around the small bedroom as he awakened from his sleep.

"What the fuck just happened here?" he gasped as he observed his surroundings and then realized he was in the bedroom of the apartment he had been hiding out in. Knowing where he was helped calm him down and his breathing began to gradually slow. Only when his breathing slowed down did he feel the stings of pain in his right cheek and he winced before he could speak again. Needing to find the nearest mirror, he swung his body over and placed both feet on the carpeted floor beneath and it was then that things made sense.

The career criminal looked towards the bedroom window to find that it was still opened and the broken vase still lay in pieces beneath it.

After reading through Dr. Ramsey's diary, Jake heard a crash come from the bedroom and went to investigate where he found the bedroom window opened and then he heard footsteps coming from behind and before he knew it, he was knocked out. All he remembered seeing was a black gloved fist and nothing else.

"Somebody else was here…but how?" he spoke aloud as he made his way over to a mirror and noticed the cluster of discolored bumps on the right side of his face, but that wasn't all he noticed. Somebody had jumped him from behind, but whatever they had done, they also cleaned him up as there was no more blood or soot on his face. A reflection in the mirror also made him take notice of something else.

Looking back to the desk, there Jake saw his MP5 and he went to pick it up, only to find somebody had cleaned his weapon and reloaded it for him. Not only had they reloaded his weapon, they also clipped a flashlight attachment to the top of the gun and beneath it an M-203 grenade launcher. On the desk beneath, he found four additional clips for the submachine gun. "What the hell?" he didn't know whether he was supposed to feel freaked out or thankful.

Setting his MP5 down on the desk, he suddenly noticed his other weapons laid out as well. His Beretta 9mm. handgun was near the typewriter and had five fresh clips left out with a suppressor that would enable sneakier kills on enemies. Next to that, he found his powerful S&W M629C magnum revolver positioned with six fresh speed loaders, adding to the one remaining loader he had before being knocked out. Besides his firearms, his katana sword had been left on the desk and from the looks of things, had been cleaned and polished while he was out cold, along with two Bowie knives left out for him. A line of five M-68 fragmentation grenades and a canister full of explosive rounds for his M-203 grenade launcher attachment had also been left out.

"Damn…" Whoever had broken into the apartment and knocked him out sure must be interested in his personal protection if they were to leave him with all of this weaponry.

In addition to all of the weapons that had been left out for him, he found a side pack, new Kevlar combat vest and a fresh can of Umbrella, Inc. first-aid spray. The manila envelope containing all of his mission information was still there, and so was the diamond-shaped key given to him by Sherry, his lock pick, Sebastian's diary and both the diary and Level 4 Umbrella security card he had pocketed from Colin Leach's apartment.

"Okay, this is too weird…" Jake trailed off looking down at his belongings laid out before him and then looked up to the typewriter in front of him to see that Nathan's attempted horror novel had been removed and replaced by a mysterious note.

"Well what do we have here?" he asked to no one taking the letter and reading it.

_Hello and happy Sep. 29th Mr. Cavanaugh,_

_My name is of no importance, but I'm sure you probably already know who I am. I have been watching you very closely during your stay and I must say I am deeply impressed by your abilities, now I know I was right in choosing you for this job. You should be very proud of yourself my friend, and if you complete your job well enough, I might consider doubling your reward._

_I understand you read Dr. Ramsey's journal and came across an entry talking about the good Dr. Birkin being assassinated by Umbrella Special Forces, but I'm afraid he is dead wrong. Dr. Birkin isn't as dead as you might think he is. I assure you, he is very much alive and somewhere in the city as we speak. Your mission is not complete and you will not be rewarded until he is snuffed out for good._

_You were on the right trail by staying in the R.P.D. and I would suggest you not stray far from that location, your destiny lies beneath that structure and it will be a difficult task believe me, which is why I have left you some presents on the desk. Don't waste too much of what I have left you on those zombies, soon they will be the very least of your worries._

_Now, get yourself something to eat and be prepared as soon as you find this note. You don't have much time left to complete this task. You'll get there much faster if you play the board right, checkmate._

_I wish you the best of luck and good hunting!_

Jake growled in anger and crumpled the note, "Arrogant fucker! As soon as I collect this bounty I'm taking you out too!" he shouted tossing the crumpled ball across the room and then staring back down at his supplies on the desk. He looked down to his wristwatch and saw that it was now 8:39 p.m., nighttime September 29th. "Damn it, been out for sixteen hours," he said trying to calm himself down and then walked back towards the window overlooking the cityscape below when the whirring of helicopter blades caught his attention.

Heading towards the R.P.D., Jake spotted a police helicopter that he assumed was probably the rescue chopper from the night before and on the station rooftop he again spotted repeated muzzle flashes that probably came from an assault rifle this time around. He was able to make out the darkened stumbling figures of zombies moving towards the source of the flashing light and continued until the helicopter was ready to make its landing. The flashing light was soon redirected upward towards the chopper, which then began to spiral out of control suggesting that the pilot had been hit, and sent flying head-on into the station's water tower. A great explosion soon followed and a single burning body fell to the concrete below.

"Damn, there goes probably the only means of escape other than wading my way through the shit down below," he said to himself stepping away from the window and then making his way into the kitchen to fix himself a quick meal. It was going to be another long night and he wanted to be ready for the battle that awaited him. After finishing his meal, the career criminal gathered his weapons, strapping his sword to his back, placing the Bowie knives in his shin holsters, clipping the grenades to his belt, sliding the Beretta into his hip holster, placing the magnum revolver in his shoulder holster, sliding the side pack holding everything else around his shoulder and hoisting the submachine gun in front of him. He was now ready to go.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The streets were much quieter than they had been the night before, but moans of the walking dead could still be heard from far away. Jake still traveled with great caution knowing at any point a zombie could burst out of one of the nearby stores or alleys wanting a piece of him and he wanted to be ready.

Strangely enough, as he traveled back towards the station, he came across a bunch of slaughtered zombies who lay on the ground butchered in numerous horrendous ways. A few had bullets lodged in their skulls, others bore cut marks that appeared to have been inflicted by a blade rather than by a Hunter or Licker and others lay with their faces caved in taken down by brute force. Someone or some group had been through this area recently and inflicted massive damage on the remaining zombies. Whatever happened, it had saved him much trouble as he made his way back and he had not yet had to fire his gun.

"Whoever knocked me out must've been through here too," Jake said as he rubbed the side of his face where he had been struck. It truly surprised him that somebody would just break into the hideout just to knock him out and leave him a bunch of extra ammo rather than killing him and getting it over with. Somebody was trying to mess around with his head, but the question was who?

Could it have been orchestrated by that Fortune guy mentioned in Sebastian's diary? He seemed to have it out against important Umbrella figures according to the good doctor, could he be Jake's "mysterious benefactor?" If not him, then who could it be?

"Somebody really hates Umbrella out there and they must know of me and hate me too to throw me in such a situation." Jake thought to himself. "Dr. Birkin isn't as dead as you might think he is…what the fuck?" What could they mean by the doctor "not being as dead as you might think he is?" The thought was beginning to embed in his mind. Maybe it was all a ruse and Dr. Birkin was never assassinated, but with his venomous portrayal of his own company, Jake doubted Sebastian would lie about such a thing.

Jake turned onto the street with the R.P.D. and instantly thought about what the note left for him said about his "destiny lying beneath the structure." Whatever that cryptic message meant, it probably was trying to say that he would eventually end up venturing into the sewers in his pursuit of the rogue Umbrella scientist. Looking around for any more threats he ran towards the iron gate and it was then he heard more gunshots, and they were coming from beyond the pileup to his left.

"Another poor soul enters the fray?" Jake asked quietly as he approached the point where a S.W.A.T. van and fire engine had collided and peeked through a crack. Looking through, he spotted a few zombified police officers stumbling around drunkenly and another survivor making a mad dash around them firing at any standing in her way.

This survivor was an attractive young woman probably no older than 20 who had her long auburn hair in a ponytail and wore a light rose-tinted vest that had an image of an angel holding a bomb on the back with the words "Made In Heaven" stitched above it in yellow lettering and matching cutoffs over a black t-shirt and black spandex, black gloves and brown biker boots that stopped just beneath her knees.

Jake watched wordlessly as the young woman shot her way through the zombies and then entered the station through a side gate that would take her into the courtyard. He had no idea what her intentions were for entering the zombie-infested station, but he would follow closely behind and carefully peeked through the iron gate as she made her way through the front doors of the station.

More moans sounded from behind and he turned to find more zombies approaching. The career criminal furrowed his brow at them and quickly closed the gate behind, wedging it shut with a lead pipe lying nearby. The dead collided with the gate and banged foolishly as they tried to get in at him. Upon further inspection there only appeared to be five in this group, but it was still too dangerous to go back outside.

The career criminal turned his attention back to the police station and thought of the young woman who had just entered. She probably wasn't too far ahead of him and figured he would give her some distance before he entered. It was very possible that he would eventually meet her face to face, but now was not the time and he found himself thinking of the diaries he had found so far, the most revealing being Sebastian's. He had no clue what he would do with the documents he had found, but he was sure somebody else looking to bring Umbrella down would probably make better use of them than he would once he made it out.

Jake waited around a few more minutes before deciding to enter the station.

Aside from the additional corpses littering the marble floor, nothing had changed. He listened closely for any moans and heard a few coming from the east wing and then looked back to the west wing entrance which was quiet. The single door not far away from the waiting room entrance was probably locked and he doubted the computer at the reception desk would be of much use right now. Listening for any gunfire he then made his way into the west wing.

The west wing waiting room was devoid of any life forms and nothing appeared to be of any interest aside from a large storage box located in a small alcove near the reception windows looking into the west wing offices.

Hoping to find anything that could be of use he lifted the heavy lid and began sorting through the contents, finding a few old ink ribbons, a combat knife, a broken shotgun and other items that wouldn't be of much use right now until he spotted two red boxes and a green case. "Finally," he said aloud as he examined the boxes which contained 9x19 parabellum rounds and shells designed for the Remington M1100 series of shotgun. He had a feeling he would be encountering that young woman and possibly other survivors soon enough that would be able to make use of his findings and he continued forth.

With submachine gun raised, Jake exited the waiting room through a back door and found himself in a wide hallway with smashed windows and a shutter control console with its cable snapped. Turning the corner, he found a police officer whose head had been cleanly sliced off and a deceased Licker lying near a pool of blood with an arrow stuck in its side and a bullet to the skull, no doubt the workings of the woman or another fortunate survivor who had been left behind.

The next door led to the cramped hallway containing the station's briefing room, which was eerily vacant despite all the destruction left behind and he found himself looking down at the splintered folding table that had once barred access to the hall. It was supposed to hold back the undead menace, but had failed, much like the other weathered boards soon would. The crunch of glass sounded beneath him as he stepped through the hallway and maneuvered around the fallen boards, papers and other debris littering the linoleum surface. Placing his ear to the double doors of the briefing room he listened for any more noises and entered to find the room in the same kind of disarray it was the last time he was there. Smelling the smoke in the air, he entered the back storage room to find a fire still burning in the fireplace and a painting above the mantelpiece with a hole eaten through it. Strange it was, but nothing of interest.

Exiting the battered hallway, he then entered the next room containing the west wing stairwell where four dead bodies lay with arrows stuck in their bodies and an empty crossbow laying at the base of a broken window. Jake examined the empty bow gun closely and then turned to find spent bullet casings on the steps before him. "I must be close," he said continuing up the stairs and moving down the hall, where the warrior statue was now missing the sparking ruby it once held and the two smaller busts were in place on both sides of the statue. "Could that woman or somebody else have done all this so quickly?"

The career criminal next entered a brightly lit hallway where he was immediately met by the sight of three zombified police officers lying on the ground with fatal headshots and from the nearby S.T.A.R.S. office he could hear the voices of survivors. As quietly as he could, Jake snuck up to the office door and again strained his ears for whatever he could hear.

"It's good to see you're still among the living," a youthful male voice spoke up from behind the door, indicating he was probably talking to just one other person. "It looks like we're not going to find your brother here after all, so there's no reason for us to stay any longer than necessary. Let's split up, look for any survivors and get out of here."

"Right," a young feminine voice replied.

"One last thing," and then a pause, "Here's a radio, take it. That way we can keep in touch if anything happens," the man spoke again.

"I can't believe what's happening to the city…" the female sighed and then all was quiet except for footsteps.

"More survivors…" Jake whispered and quietly gripped the doorknob ready to meet the new faces and hoping they would be somewhat friendly. With a turn of the knob, he launched himself into the room with submachine gun raised.

"Whoa, hold your fire! We're human!" the male shouted.

Before Jake stood two ordinary survivors clutching their weapons and gradually lowering them when they saw another human had entered the room. The first was the young woman he had seen entering the police station from a distance, holding what looked like an M-79 grenade launcher. The other was a young man who stood just less than six feet tall with brownish-blonde hair that reached down to eye level and neatly parted down the middle and light blue eyes. He wore a newer R.P.D. police uniform similar to what Eric and D.J. both wore, suggesting that he too was probably just fresh out of the academy. In his hands he protectively clutched a Remington M1100 12-gauge shotgun that he had probably gone through Hell and back to acquire and was one of his last means of self-defense.

"Sir, you can lower your weapon. We will not harm you!" the officer said, lowering his shotgun and raising his free hand motioning to lower his weapon. The woman stood close to him, a worried stare in her hazel eyes.

Jake stood in the doorway with gun still raised. He looked at both of them cautiously, his eyes darting back and forth between both of theirs before he finally lowered the gun and stepped into the room, taking one last glance around before slamming the door shut behind him.

"Are you alright?" the cop asked cautiously stepping towards him, "None of those things bit or scratched you did they?"

"No, I'm fine," Jake replied taking his focus off the cop and turning to the young woman. "The streets are too dangerous and I came to see if I could find any other survivors and possibly some help. Is it just the two of you here right now?" he asked, knowing he probably wouldn't get much for an answer.

Both survivors looked to each other and then looked back to him, the cop shook his head, but the woman finally spoke up.

"Yeah, I found a wounded officer in the west office," she spoke in a high-pitched, almost childish tone, "He looked like he had been bitten too. I don't know if he's going to make it or not, but we'll have to go back for him soon."

"Damn," the officer cursed and then looked to Jake, "What about you? Have you seen anybody at all?"

"A few people," Jake replied, telling a half-truth, "but they're not around to my knowledge. Otherwise, I haven't seen any of them around elsewhere."

The two people looked to each other again with fearful expressions. Knowing that the living dead walked the streets, it would only be a matter of time before they were overcome. "Oh my…" the woman croaked weakly.

"Yep, it's a bitch," Jake added, "This entire city has become shithole central and I doubt there will be any cavalry arriving to save us any time soon." He leaned nonchalantly against a neatly kept desk in front of a fax machine and row of self-help books, finally managing to get a good look of the S.T.A.R.S. office.

The room was slightly larger than some of the other R.P.D. offices and not as cramped with six desks in the room, including the one he sat at which bore the name "Brad Vickers," the S.T.A.R.S. pilot he encountered a few nights ago and fought alongside with against the Nemesis monster, only to have the beast catch up to him later according to Jill. The desk at the front of the room had been ransacked, but the still visible nametag indicated it had belonged to an "Albert Wesker," who was probably the leader of the unit judging by position. On the wall behind it was a large banner displaying the S.T.A.R.S. insignia, a photo that he had assumed was probably of the S.T.A.R.S. unit, a dartboard with a picture of hated Middle Eastern dictator Saddam Hussein on it with several darts stuck in his ugly face and in the northwestern corner a trophy case displaying several marksmanship trophies.

The other desks were lined up facing each other, the desk nearest to Wesker's with a large blue gill mounted on the wall above it and a replica of a handgun resting on it, belonging to a "Barry Burton" who was probably an avid outdoorsman and N.R.A. member. Facing his desk was a messy desk with a World War II-era bomber jacket hanging on the wall above it with the same "Made in Heaven" angel design the woman had on the back of her vest and a guitar resting beneath it, belonging to a "Christopher Redfield." The desk next to his was much cleaner and had a blue S.T.A.R.S. beret resting on the desk, belonging to a "Jillian Valentine," the same woman he had fought alongside with out on the streets. The last desk must have belonged to a rookie judging by the unpacked boxes and the first-aid bag indicated the owner was probably a medic, a "Rebecca Chambers" it belonged to. Other than that, the room contained shelves with old case files, a large communications console probably rendered useless given the current situation and a weapons locker to the immediate right of the entrance.

"My name is Leon by the way," the officer said extending his hand, "Leon Kennedy, I'm an officer here with the R.P.D., or was an officer here. Was my first day on the job too."

"Sucks to be you," Jake sarcastically replied, "Jake Smith, I was trying to get through here on vacation. Next thing you know, they're declaring martial law and we're all trapped in this dump," the criminal added repeating the same alias and alibi he had been giving for the past three days.

"Shitty timing I'd say," Leon retorted and then he approached the woman extending his hand.

"Mine's Claire, Claire Redfield," the woman politely replied, "I came to find my brother Chris, he's a member of S.T.A.R.S." she said motioning to her current surroundings.

"No luck finding him?" Jake asked looking towards the officer's desk.

"No," the woman replied raising a teal colored book, "He's in Europe."

Leon walked up behind the two and spoke up, "Uh hey, if you don't mind Jake, you kind of walked in on us at a bad time. We were both about to split up and search for survivors and then get the hell out of here any way we could." He then reached into his pocket and produced an extra radio, "I already gave Claire one of these, but you look like you could use one too. It's a two-way radio you can use to keep in touch with us. If we're lucky, we might be able to get in touch with any other survivors holed up around the city."

"Got it," Jake replied and then studied their weapons, "How are you both holding up for ammo?"

Leon raised his shotgun and checked how many shells he had left in the chamber, "I'm pretty tight so far. I'm down to six shells with nothing left in reserve. This might sound crazy, but I wasted most of my ammo blasting some skinless freaks with long tongues in this burnt out hallway when I first go here. I'm pretty low on ammo for my H&K VP-70 too."

"Don't worry, you're not crazy." Jake replied and offered him the shells he found in the waiting room storage chest. "Take 'em, I don't need them right now" and offered him one of the boxes of handgun ammo he had found as well and turned his attention back to Claire, "How about you?"

"I just found this grenade launcher in the storage locker over there and I should have enough explosive rounds for it, but I'm pretty low on ammo for my Browning HP," she reported withdrawing the black and brown handgun from its holster.

"Take some of these too," Jake offered her the other red box.

"What about you, Jake? How are you holding up on ammo?" Leon cut in looking at the criminal's modified MP5.

"Just fine," Jake smiled proudly displaying his submachine gun. "Don't worry, this isn't my only gun. I've got two more on me, some knives and my katana," he finished pointing to the sword strapped to his back. "I've got plenty of ammo for each too. If there are two things I've learned about this hellhole, always carry more than one gun and keep your ammo fully stocked at all times."

"Yeah, but just have to hope it doesn't run out anytime soon," Leon said now eying him warily.

"Hey, I've survived three days in this nightmare so far so don't go patronizing me and assume that I'm some untrained schmuck," Jake shot back in a tone bordering between respectful and condescending. "I can make it, trust me."

The electronic ringing of the fax machine sounded, causing both Leon and Claire to jump.

"Wonder who that could be for?" Jake asked unmoved by the sound and looked back to the machine, where Claire had now swiped the fresh document and began reading it over.

"Who's it for?" the young officer asked walking up and peeking over the college student's shoulder.

"It's from a Jack Hamilton, the section chief of Internal Investigations in the United States Federal Police Department…and it's for Chris!"

She then proceeded to read the letter out loud:

_Mr. Chris Redfield,_

_As per your request, we have conducted our internal investigation and discovered the following information:_

_Regarding the G-Virus currently under development by Umbrella Inc._

_So far it is unconfirmed that the G-Virus even exists. We're continuing with_

_our investigation._

_Regarding Mr. Brian Irons, Chief of the Raccoon City Police Dept._

_Mr. Irons has allegedly received a large sum of funds in bribes from Umbrella _

_Inc. over the last five years. He was apparently involved in the cover up of the mansion lab case along with several other incidents in which Umbrella appears to have direct involvement._

_Mr. Irons has been arrested under suspicion of rape on two separate accounts during his years as a university student. He underwent psychiatric evaluation as a result of the charges but was released due to circumstantial evidence as well as his phenomenal academic standing._

_As such, extreme caution is advised when dealing with him._

"What the hell?" Claire blurted out in wide-eyed horror and nearly dropping the fax. Leon shared her disbelief and the two of them stood by silently staring at the paper. To them this was brand new, Claire was in shock because her brother had been working for a slimebag all along and Leon mortified about working for a corrupt police chief who had seedy dealings with an internationally renowned pharmaceutical chain. The fact that a legitimate business like Umbrella could be involved in such actions also stunned them.

To Jake Cavanaugh, this was nothing new. After reading about the shocking goings-on that went down behind closed doors at the Umbrella Corporation he had already been exposed to the madness and began to expect more information to turn up in the coming hours.

"Whatever is going on, we had better focus on getting whatever survivors we can find out of here at once!" Leon ordered and turned to his two companions. "I'll search the library and clock tower area. Claire, search the second floor east wing and see if you can find anything at all. Jake, investigate the east wing and search the offices and if possible, the basement corridor as well. We have to find a way out of here."

"Right," Claire replied with a nod.

"I'm on it," Jake answered.

The three survivors then stepped out into the hall and Leon and Claire quickly made their way towards the second floor lounge entrance. "Good luck Jake and we hope to see you again." Leon replied with a wave over his shoulder.

"You can count on it. I'll radio if I find anything," he replied with his own wave and watched as the two disappeared around the corner.

Jake looked down at the radio that had been given to him by Leon and was about to clip it to his belt when it suddenly beeped and a long static littered with the occasional gunshot rang out before he heard a familiar voice.

"Hello…can anybody hear me? This is Officer David McGraw of the Raccoon Police Department's S.W.A.T. team. I am calling from the Raccoon City Zoo where myself and several other survivors are trapped and are fighting for our very survival against numerous mutated creatures. We need backup immediately and if the U.S. Army is receiving this transmission, we are not too far away from the barricade you have placed on I-96 going into Raccoon. We have wounded with us too and are requesting an airlift as well. Can anybody hear me? Please respond, over!"

"Shit!" Jake whispered and quickly scooped up the radio, "David, can you hear me? It's Jake, Jake Smith!"

A brief static-filled pause followed.

"Holy shit, Jake you're alive!" the S.W.A.T. officer called out from the other end. "Thank God, we thought you were killed when that mutated dog tackled you through the window. Are you alright? That thing didn't bite you did it?"

"No," Jake replied, "but listen, I'm back at the R.P.D. and I've found some other survivors, one of whom is another one of your rookies you were supposed to be receiving."

"What are you doing back at the R.P.D. of all places? That place must be crawling with zombies and those other crazies!" David shouted followed by the sounds of gunfire. "Eric, don't let those things get any closer to us!" he cried to an individual in the background, who was probably rookie officer Eric Rawlings. "Okay, what are you doing back at the R.P.D. and have you found any other survivors besides the two you've just mentioned?"

"Look, I'll have to tell you later about why I'm back here at the R.P.D. it's a long story. Is there anybody else besides Rawlings with you right now?" Jake asked holding the radio close to him.

More gunfire rang out before David could respond, "So far it's me, Eric, Samantha and Ben. I have no idea where D.J. went off to, but the others are…" he trailed off unable to speak the words he expected. "Never mind, Jake you need to round up any survivors you can and get the hell out of there. That place isn't safe anymore; nowhere in Raccoon is it safe anymore. Just get who you can and get out of there."

"Have you tried contacting anybody else? I'm sure there might be some other officers out there unaccounted for," Jake asked remembering the gunfire he spotted from his hideout hours ago.

"I've tried, but I'm afraid I got nothing," David replied in a less-than-hopeful tone, "I've been trying to get in touch, but communications from the station to the outside world are nonexistent and it's a miracle that I'm able to even get through to a small radio like yours."

"I understand," Jake replied plainly looking out the window across from him.

"Yeah, if I do get through to the military blockade, chances are they might only send help to the establishments closest to the city limits at the very least. Sending a rescue party to the heart of downtown Raccoon would be suicidal even for them." David replied sounding tired and disgusted.

"I wouldn't blame them," Jake spoke remembering the Main St. barricade massacre and other failed counter-offensives against the walking dead.

"I'm sorry Jake, but I'm afraid you might be on your own in this whole ordeal," David continued, "You're going to have to find another way out of Raccoon by any means necessary. It'll be risky, but you might have to try to sewers, safer option than walking through streets teeming with the living dead.

"As if I'm not in enough shit already…" Jake grunted.

"I know, this is a situation unlike anything we've ever seen before that none of us were prepared for. We're just as helpless as you are Jake; you're going to have to do this. Believe me, if I could go to bat for you on this I definitely would. I pray to whatever is out there that you and whoever else you can find will make it out of there with your skin intact, but there's nothing more I can do for you from over here. All I can do now is wish you the best of luck and may you make it out safe and sound." David spoke grimly and then there was a click followed by the empty hiss of static.

Jake lowered the radio and cursed silently to himself knowing that they were probably screwed where they were at now, but he felt a silent confidence that they could make it. If David would be able to pull his head out of the gutter, then he would probably be able to lead those survivors out of this nightmare and to safety. As for Jake, it was now down to him, Leon and Claire, the only other possible survivor being that fat pig Brian Irons and he didn't care much to escape with him.

He then remembered how Claire mentioned her brother was a member of S.T.A.R.S., the unit sent in to investigate the Spencer Estate back in late July. From the notes he received, they claimed that their commanding officer, one Albert Wesker, was involved with the Umbrella Corporation and their illegal bio-weapons research. The career criminal himself had been right near the man's desk and noticed it had been ransacked; maybe somebody knew about his activities with Umbrella and was looking for evidence or to cover something up. He was going to find out for himself right now and reentered the S.T.A.R.S. office.

Jake quickly began digging through the turncoat captain's desk finding that most of the papers and files had already been spilled onto the floor and any other knickknacks that might have stood on his desk were scattered about in the mess surrounding his desk. Before he could give up his search, he found a fortune telling "8" ball resting on a science book with the corner of a picture sticking out and pulled it out for another surprise.

The picture was of four men in white lab coats, the one on the end standing out the most with his slicked back blonde hair, shades and calm composure. Turning the picture over the men's names were revealed: Martin Crackhorn, Henry Sarton, John Fay and Albert Wesker. Above their names was a written message:

"_Albert, _

_Lucky number 8 always wins!_

_John_

"Another clue?" Jake asked looking down to the magic 8 ball and saw blue and gold where his fortune should be revealed. "Not as handy as you think you are at cryptic messages," the career criminal smiled and smashed the black ball onto the floor, rewarded with a film canister labeled "T-003 growth."

"Some film? I thought I saw something about a darkroom downstairs. Could be a chance to find out," he thought to himself and then moved on, but not before stealing another peak at the S.T.A.R.S. group photo, one of them posing in front of a helicopter with their weapons in happier times.

From left to right in the back row stood Edward Dewey, a powerful-looking giant around his height, Forest Speyer, a long-haired man in a sleeveless blue vest proudly displaying his shotgun like it was his newborn child, Kenneth J. Sullivan, a tall bald man of African descent who smiled proudly to the camera, Richard Aiken, a short, yet brawny young man probably younger than him with short blonde hair and a bright orange vest that made him stand out among his cohorts, Albert Wesker, the traitorous captain himself with slicked back blonde hair and shades intact, his lab coat from the previous photo replaced by a black combat outfit, Barry Burton, a broad-shouldered, bearded behemoth holding what looked like a sniper rifle, when he looked like a guy who could cause plenty of damage on the frontlines, and Brad Vickers, the pilot he had encountered a few nights earlier.

In the front row, kneeling at the far left was a bald man named Kevin Dooley who displayed his weapon in front of him, Enrico Marini, a Hispanic man with a bushy mustache and forest green combat vest holding a submachine gun, Chris Redfield himself, the man bearing a striking resemblance to his younger sister with auburn-colored hair and confident smirk, Jill Valentine from the other night, her street clothes now replaced by a dark and light blue combat outfit including the same beret that now rested on her desk, and a cocky-looking man in a red bandana named Joseph Frost.

"So that was S.T.A.R.S. huh?" he muttered to himself and exited the office ready to make his way towards the station's east wing and in search of any other survivors.

Author's Note: I know this chapter might be a bit brief, but my aim here largely is just to introduce Leon and Claire to the story. I've been on a roll lately so I'm just keeping it going and going and…you get the idea! Read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	28. Chapter 23: Mouth of Madness

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Chapter 23: Mouth of Madness

The soulless eyes of an eight foot tall colossus stared back at him, just as Sebastian described, looking almost human except for its pale gray skin, heart on the outside of its chest and large claw for a left hand.

"Hello tall, dark and ugly indeed," Jake mused as he stared at the photo he had just developed under the sinister red glow of the darkroom safelights. The entire roll of film he discovered hidden in Wesker's magic 8 ball had been shots taken in a secret laboratory where a new bio-weapon known as the "T-003" was under development and showed records of its growth from when the virus was first injected into an ordinary looking man in a prison jumper to its growth into the abomination it eventually became. Surely enough, this Albert Wesker and the other researchers in that group photo were present in several of the photos, proving that the S.T.A.R.S. captain was indeed guilty of betraying his teammates. Not even bothering to put the photo developing equipment away, he quickly gathered several of the photos and then made his way back into the hallway where he found another zombie trying to climb in through the shattered window, quickly dispatching it with a round to the head.

Jake made his way back towards the door which he entered from, but then took notice of the door at the end of the hall he had completely failed to notice before. It was a heavy reinforced door which had a pink diamond shape engraved above the lock. He remembered the key with the diamond-shaped end given to him by Sherry and dug through his side pack before he found it and slid it into the lock. Hearing the moans of zombies on the other hand, he raised his submachine gun in one hand and quickly turned the key with the other.

Throwing the door open, the career criminal was immediately met by a dark blonde-haired zombie in a S.W.A.T. uniform with its left leg heavily bandaged up, whom he recognized as Emery Fortay, now a full-fledged zombie and covered with the blood of a victim. Jake quickly brought his foot up and knocked the zombie backwards, firing a volley of rounds into the former human's rotting face. There were six additional zombies staggering about in the cramped quarters of the evidence room and he made quick work of them with rounds to their faces and they fell to the hard floor never to rise again.

The small room was lined with dull gray lockers and shelves with labeled boxes containing evidence from crime scenes all over Raccoon City. On a nearby shelf he noticed more shotgun shells and a quiver of bow gun bolts which he would leave behind for Leon and Claire if they were to ever visit the room. Behind a row of lockers, he found Dr. Ethan Peltz, more likely what was left of him. The former medical doctor had been nearly skinned and parts of his body were scattered about the small room, a grisly demise which left nothing of use behind.

A barely audible grunt was all that Jake made as he looked down upon the dead man and then shifted his view upwards where he found a half-opened locker and inside two extra MP5 clips and some acid rounds that would be compatible with his grenade launcher attachment, both seized from the home of a suspected anarchist according to the tag inside. He took the clips for himself, but left the acid rounds for Claire and then made his way into the adjacent office.

The office was next to the waiting room and here he finally got to see the carnage up close.

Furniture was scattered haphazardly, spent bullet casings littered the floor, and blood was everywhere. There were six dead zombies lying towards the front of the room, all wearing police officer uniforms and the additional headless corpse of a civilian lying in the doorway of the side office. Walking past the side office he spotted another familiar officer lying face up.

"Marvin Branagh…" he whispered inching towards the officer's body and nudged its foot with his shoe. No response. A paper was held in the man's right hand, but it was probably just some patrol report he was looking at when he collapsed.

On the desk next to him was another box of shotgun shells and a key with a heart-shaped end, similar to the key given to him by Sherry. Feeling he would probably be the first to reach the basement entrance corridor he took the key and exited the office, but not before hearing the officers' moans from the office, probably in the process of turning.

After a quick trip through the main hall, he found himself back in the east wing hall up against eight zombies.

"Come on, gather around you bastards," the career criminal whispered as he waited for the monsters to assemble into one large mass so he could try out his new grenade launcher attachment. Gripping the weapon tightly he mentally screamed at the undead fiends to come after him and held high an unwavering aim wanting to take them out before they got too close. When six of the eight zombies had gotten close enough, he finally pulled the trigger, sending an explosive round flying head on into the crowd.

Five of the zombies were blown to bits, but the sixth only had its legs destroyed and its upper torso continued crawling towards Jake, who brought his foot up with enough force to snap the creature's neck.

Two more zombies remained, one of whom he instantly recognized as Ellen Sears, the young officer who had treated his wounds when he first arrived at the station a few nights ago. Blood gushed from wounds on her shoulder and collarbone areas and she was barely able to raise her arm on that side as she staggered towards him. Jake quickly raised his gun and put a bullet in her skull, feeling some remorse for putting her down after the way she helped him. One zombie remained, one that could be dealt with easily. The career criminal reached down and pulled out one of his Bowie knives, tossing it and sending it right between the monster's eyes.

"Knowing Leon, he's probably going to expect me to search that one corridor I haven't touched yet," Jake thought as he retrieved his knife from the carcass and saw the hallway to his right. "Don't know if I'll find anybody, but still worth a try."

Kicking the door in, Jake was met by four more zombies who broke out of their docile trances to attack him the second he appeared. All hostiles were quickly cut down in a hail of gunfire and he was forced to eject a spent clip. "Wonder what they've got over here," he said seeing what looked like a reinforced steel door down at the end. Walking quickly past the row of boarded up windows he observed another pink diamond etching above the lock and slid his diamond key in and turned the latch when he heard gunfire coming from down the hall.

"Another party going on without me," Jake said dropping the key and making a run down the hall past the observation room and a few more offices before he reached the source of the gunfire, coming from the office directly across the station's press room. Hugging his back against the wall again, he waited a few seconds before he leapt in front of the door and knocked it open with a snap kick.

Switching on his flashlight attachment, Jake found himself in a poorly-lit office with several desks and chairs overturned and an overhead vent hanging open, suggesting a possible escape attempt. Shining his light down onto the tiled floor he found two corpses, strangely though, one of them had been dispatched with a headshot, but his clear skin tone suggested that he must have been alive when he was shot.

"Wait!"

BANG! BANG!

"What the hell?" Jake asked kneeling down and taking cover behind a desk. A youthful voice had just called out followed by gunshots. They had come from a side office that had its blinds drawn and the door opened slightly. Straining his ears, he swore he heard a sick laughter and inched closer.

"Yes, writhe in agony like the pathetic little worm you are!" an older high-pitched voice called out, which he instantly recognized.

Inching closer, the career criminal finally got to the door and peeked through to see Chief Irons standing over the corpse of one of his own officers with smoking gun in hand.

"You thought you were too smart didn't you Pascal? You thought you knew every single secret this station holds, didn't you? You were dead wrong incompetent slug! There is only one master of this domain and that is me!" the madman spoke pointing his thumb triumphantly to his chest. "You just wouldn't fuck die, well I made sure you did you deluded fool. Nobody is getting out alive! Nobody!"

Jake heard enough and threw the door open, startling the chief and making him nearly drop his gun.

"You!" he cried, raising his hands protectively, "What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be with the others."

"I thought your fat ass was supposed to be with the others too," Jake shot back and then lowered his eyes to the corpse on the floor, a young officer who appeared to be unarmed. "Gunning down your own men too I see, huh?"

"No!" the portly man shouted waving his hands, "He was becoming one of them! Honest! He was going to devour me alive! I had to shoot him before he could transform!"

"Yeah right!" Jake shouted stepping forth, "I heard that man's voice. He didn't sound too dead to me. If you ask me, I'd say you're in the middle of hunting down your own men, aren't you?"

"No, I swear!" the chief shouted sounding visibly petrified. It sounded like the career criminal was starting to get inside the man's head, but he assumed it was probably just an act to lure him into lowering his guard. The man he was dealing with was a full-blown backstabbing psychopath and he doubted Irons would think twice about putting a bullet in him the second he lowered his weapon.

"Liar, I can smell you from a mile away. Your hasty movements, the tone of your voice, the sweat on your forehead, not to mention that little speech I overheard about nobody getting out alive…you're hiding something and I can sense it. Face it Moby Dick, you're not fooling anybody for a second!" Jake spoke with MP5 trained squarely on the Chief's bulbous gut, a confident smirk silently creeping onto his features.

The innocent act put on by the Chief quickly vanished and was replaced by a look of pure rage at being found out and taunted by a seemingly ordinary civilian. "You foolish bastard, do you seriously think your little discovery will get you anywhere? This town has gone up in flames and crumbles with every passing second! Everyone is going to die!"

"You're right porky, somebody is going to die and it won't be me going on the grill tonight!" Jake retorted with a wink.

"Enough!" Irons screamed and raised his own gun, "Laugh all you want you worthless punk. You're going to end up just like everybody else out there and soon I will laugh when you are torn limb from limb by those walking corpses outside. Those fools at Umbrella lied through their teeth when they promised to take care of this city, but look at what they have done!" he motioned with a wave of his hands, "I thought I would sit back and wait for this city to gradually do itself in, but then I realized something from all of this madness. I was inspired to hunt down and kill every remaining survivor myself! I know that even if I don't kill you, something else will! Nobody gets out alive!"

"I don't think so pal!" Jake replied, knowing what the madman would probably pull next.

Without a word, Brian Irons raised his gun and opened fire. This was exactly what the career criminal anticipated as he dove out from the doorway and the bullets directed at him only chipped away at the wooden frame.

"Wow, you're pretty quick for a beached whale, you know that?" Jake taunted scampering behind a row of desks, hoping to get inside the man's head long enough to make his critical shot.

"I'll kill you, you impotent fool!" the Chief screamed firing round after round towards the criminal, his bullets striking piles of paper and computer monitors sending sparks and scraps blowing through the air.

"Really, I'd look downward if I were you buddy! Don't look very up to the task yourself!" Jake shouted. Dealing with a gun-toting human being was completely different from battling hordes of the living dead; he had to be quicker and much more cunning to make it out alive. Jake popped up and fired his own burst at the Chief, shattering a window behind him and then fired a long torrent that sent him cowering into cubicle as shredded books and files rained down upon him.

Brian Irons breathed heavily as he ducked into the partitioned cubicle checking his clip to see that he had only six bullets left in his current and would need to reload soon. The man seethed with anger and panted audibly, trying hard not to as to avoid giving away his position in the darkened room. That lowly piece of street trash ridiculed him and he was determined to make him pay for his misdeed, but now he realized he had underestimated the younger man as he turned out to be a much greater threat than expected. This was no ordinary civilian he was dealing with; this man had the training of a professional.

A loud clank startled the chief and he looked down to see a thermos lying next to him, and the young man standing above him with light shining in his face.

"Surprise!"

"D-Damn you!" Irons screamed in desperation and raised his gun, only to have it shot from his hand. He screamed in pain as the gun skidded across the floor in front of him and tried to crawl away, but was knocked forward by the younger man driving his foot into lower back.

"Why don't you wallow in your own filth like the swine you are?" Jake again taunted as he stood over the crawling man and fired at the floor around him so he could listen to him cry out in fear. After ruining so many peoples' lives with his association to Umbrella he was getting just what he deserved.

"No, please don't shoot me!" the Chief pleaded as he threw his arms over his head and nearly fell over.

"You're Umbrella's bitch, give me a reason I shouldn't liquidate your lard ass?" Jake spoke narrowing his eyes at the frightened chief. He could only picture the victims of Umbrella standing around laughing at this sorry excuse for a human being after all the suffering he had contributed to. This man was no longer in a position to threaten anybody. "You're not so tough now, are you Irons?"

"Please I'm begging you! You can just run off and I promise I'll go on as if I never saw you!" Brian Irons screeched now on the verge of tears with his face as red as a beet, but was cut off by a boot to his flabby side.

"Bullshit! I know you, you manipulative piece of crap. The second I turn around you're just going to reach for your gun and shoot me in the back! That's not going to happen!" the career criminal roared and drove his foot into the chief's flabby stomach. Continuing his assault, he lifted the man by his collar and threw him against a bulletin board knocking the contents to the floor and then drove his fist into the man's gut.

Towering over his adversary, Jake grabbed the man by his vest and drove his knee into the man's stomach and then delivered a vicious backhand that sent him flying over another desk. Waiting for the overweight chief to rise back to his feet, he capitalized with a snap kick that the man pitifully tried to block, but was still knocked backwards over a swivel chair.

"You brash degenerate! If Umbrella finds out you killed me they'll be all over you like the plague! They'll have your head on a silver platter in no time!" Chief Irons blurted out, only to be cut off again as he was yanked up by the collar.

Jake held the shorter man close so he could look into his cold bluish-gray eyes so he could experience the cool touch of death before he was cast down into the fires of Hell.

"And so will those people out there whose lives you helped ruin if you kill me," he replied and then pulled out his silenced Beretta placing it under the Chief's wrinkled chin. "Trust me; it would be more merciful for me to put a bullet in your thick skull right now than have to feed your sorry ass to those zombies out there. Be lucky I'm giving you a choice, shitbag." Jake then fired another round which sailed past the Chief's ear, nearly clipping it and sending him falling back to the floor again.

"Y-Y-You won't get away with this Smith!" Irons screamed defiantly at him falling backwards. Unknown to Jake, the corrupt Chief was reaching for a gun he knew Officer Briscoe kept hidden in a shoebox under his desk. "Even if you do kill me, you'll still have an entire country calling for your blood you cop killer!" Inching further, the Chief finally felt the cool metal grip of the gun he was after. "You're dead either way!"

Jake only glared down upon him with MP5 trained, not intimidated by his idle threats. If he couldn't prove that Irons was a liar, then the S.T.A.R.S. members could.

"You're dead!" Irons screamed again, thrusting another gun into his face.

The career criminal anticipated this and slapped the man's hand away, forcing him to fire into a nearby plant and shatter the pot into pieces. With his other hand he stuck a finger into the trigger ring of Irons' gun and with a flick of his thumb, spun the firearm into his own hand. His movements were executed with lightning speed and precision and before the Chief could register what happened, he was staring into the barrel of his own firearm.

"You…"

Jake gave the handle of the gun a firm squeeze and ejected the clip, letting the little metallic bullets spill onto the floor at their feet and then set the gun on a nearby desk.

"Deranged psychopaths shouldn't be playing with guns," Jake spoke and delivered another punch to Chief Irons' stomach followed by a right hook that sent him up against a desk. With a spin of his body, the career criminal ducked low and performed a sweep kick that again took the fat man from his feet and set him crawling towards a wall.

"Typical rat, you're not so tough when you're forced to go face to face with your opponent rather than sneaking up on them."

Seeing the Chief was near a fire extinguisher Jake fired another round and struck the red tank, spraying steam all over him and sending him bumping into another bookshelf.

"No! Please don't!" Brian Irons shrieked raising his hands again as he was now being back to where his original gun had fallen.

"Shut up!" Jake growled and kicked him back again. "I've given you enough time to state your peace, but now it's over and you'll get no chance for last words this time, bub!" He then leaned closer towards the cowering man who whined miserably and begged "Please don't kill me!" repeatedly as he stared at the gun pointed in his direction.

"Now the suffering you've caused will end!" Jake Cavanaugh stood up and cocked his gun ready to fire into his enemy.

Brian Irons stared in wide-eyed horror as his life seemingly flashed before his eyes. Here he sat about to have his life ended by some nobody punk with a submachine gun. All the hard work he had done for his community and for Umbrella was now in vain, plus he would never get back at those who had made jokes at his expense. He had nothing left, absolutely nothing.

Jake stood tall over the defeated chief and pulled the trigger.

CRASH!

A thunderous crash rang out from behind, throwing the criminal's aim off and sending his intended round for Irons' fat skull into the wall just inches away.

"What now?" he muttered and turned to see what had just come crashing into the office.

In a large hole where the office's entrance once was stood a seven foot tall behemoth in a dark green trench coat. Much like the T-003 Tyrant unit he had seen in the photos, this brute was completely bald with a pale gray skin tone and soulless white eyes and had fists the size of bowling balls much like the Nemesis.

"And who the hell are you?" Jake sarcastically asked training his MP5 on the new threat making its presence known.

The giant ignored him and began its stride, raising its gigantic fist and bringing it down upon the nearest desk, reducing it to splinters within seconds.

Brian Irons quickly regained his senses when he heard the deafening crash and felt around his body to find that he had not been shot, but that his assailant's attention had been diverted.

Leaning over to get a good look around the man's flailing black trench coat, he spotted another form of the Tyrant line created by Umbrella known as the "Tyrant-103" or "Mr. X" for short. Why it was here now he had no idea, but he was familiar with them from a previous visit to a secret Umbrella laboratory.

From what he knew, the "Mr. X" series of Tyrants possessed all of the physical attributes of the regular T-003 variant, but were programmed to be far more intelligent than the former and could be trained to perform certain tasks and pursue certain targets. One thing was certain; they were in the process of being trained to avoid Umbrella personnel, including specific persons of interest. Judging by the looks of things right now, Mr. X appeared more interested in this Jake Smith fellow than him.

"Yes, deal with this crass barbarian for me," the Chief thought to himself as he scooped up his pistol and proceeded to sneak out of the office as quietly as he could.

The giant continued its march towards Jake, stopping halfway to demolish another desk that stood in its way, perhaps in an attempt to intimidate its opponent into surrender.

Jake would not back down and only looked on coolly as he pulled back the bolt on his submachine gun. "If I can survive Nemesis, I can survive this clown."

"Bring it on!" the career criminal spat and raised his gun.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sometime later Brian Irons had finally managed to make it back to the safety of his office, sneaking in through a secret passage in the janitorial closet as the front entrance had been barred by the burning wreckage of a police helicopter.

Right now he leaned back in his high-backed leather chair almost in a trance at what had just transpired. He had just been inches away from being murdered by some punk off the streets only to be saved at the last minute by the timely intervention of an Umbrella B.O.W.

"That pitiful fool had the nerve to do that to me, to me Brian Irons, Chief of the Raccoon Police Department!" he said aloud staring off into the distance.

Under normal circumstances he could have just dispatched some of his men to track the perpetrator down and haul him in where he would have been dealt with accordingly for assaulting an officer, assault with a deadly weapon, issuing death threats and other offenses he couldn't think of at the moment, and then be dealt with harshly by Judge Sanderson.

If the man had somehow managed to bypass his boys in blue, then he could've gotten in touch with his Umbrella contacts, who in turn could have tracked the man down and arranged an "accident" that would certainly spell his doom. Right now they were probably all dead and walking amongst their own abominations and the company's Inner Circle was probably hard at work plotting a cover up of the whole catastrophe.

The anger he felt towards Umbrella snapped him out of his reverie and he looked around the cramped and foreboding atmosphere generated by his windowless office and the dull grayish-brown walls and bare floorboards that came with it. Even the stately furniture and expensive Persian carpets could not take away from the depression generated.

Worse yet was the presence of the Chief's stuffed animal collection gathered from years of previous hunting expeditions all over his native Raccoon City and all over the world as well. Their lifeless, glassy eyes stared out in all directions upon any visitors unfortunate enough to be called into the man's office. There were deer and moose heads, a falcon perched on a coated branch, various small and harmless-looking fluffy critters and even a raccoon who almost smiled upon the guests, all of them frozen in death and preserved in poses given to them by the taxidermist's art.

In a sense the man was not entirely alone.

Laid out on the desk before him was Beverly Warren herself, still in her expensive party dress, large sections of its white fabric turned crimson by the blood from the massive wound on her side.

"My dear Beverly…" he muttered staring down at the woman and gently stroking her long golden locks. She lay there silently not having made a single sound or movement in over an hour. "She's infected and right now she's probably in the process of turning, but when? When will her porcelain perfect skin shrivel up and decay? When will the once beautiful, affluent young woman transform into one of the living dead? How will I end her suffering? Will I put a bullet in her brain or decapitate her completely?"

The gruesome thoughts echoed throughout his mind as the young woman he had known most of her life would soon become one of the living dead and there was nothing he could do to save her, but there was something he could do to forever preserve her beauty.

She would become yet another trophy in his collection, but she would be different, she would be his masterpiece, the most prized of all his collectibles. Frozen forever in the pose he chooses to give her, she will remain ageless and beautiful for all eternity.

He leaned towards the woman attempting to plant a kiss on her still warm forehead, but was stopped by a stinging pain in his abdomen, caused by the punch he had taken from that bastard street thug.

"Detestable hoodlum…" he growled clutching his stomach and leaning back, "My pride wasn't the only thing you tried taking away from me," the Chief thought as he took some deep breaths.

Chief Irons remembered the man's physical appearance and started thinking to himself again. "Fairly young, probably in his early to mid 20's, about six foot three, short black hair and matching goatee, bluish-gray eyes, muscular build, dressed entirely in black with an elaborate red dragon design on his t-shirt. That man looked familiar from somewhere. Exactly where, I don't know."

It suddenly clicked in his mind that he had a book full of criminal mug shots from all over the country in the top left hand drawer of his finely crafted oak desk. Whoever this young man was, he definitely looked like a criminal and he was certain to be in this book.

Leafing through the massive book he quickly scanned the black and white images of men and women wanted for numerous offenses, including pictures with large "X" marks drawn over them in bright red marker indicating that the felon had either been arrested or killed. Continuing his search further, he moved on until he finally found the man he was looking for and laid the book down with a sense of accomplishment.

Looking up from the book was a young man whose likeness was identical to that of the same man he had just encountered in the Internal Affairs office, the same look of grim hatred worn here as he had in person, his unkempt facial hair making him look years older than what his biography suggested.

"Well Jacob Smith, or shall I call you Mr. Jacob Randolph Cavanaugh? Born January 12, 1974 in Davenport, California, wanted for numerous crimes ranging from petty larceny to several counts of murder. Known in various criminal circles as "the Red Dragon" and are wanted in four states for your numerous crimes." The Chief read the entry several times before finally saying it out loud and shutting the book.

"Now I know I was right in recognizing you from somewhere, you're quite the well-known fugitive Mr. Cavanaugh, and you're right here in Raccoon City, my city of all places." Irons hissed leaning back and pressing his hands together in a steeple position tapping his fingers together before looking back to his desk and noticing the Browning HP handgun resting on its surface.

"To think I could have put a bullet in your brain and brought your maggot-riddled corpse in and collected a handsome reward," the Chief mused picking up the pistol and pretending to point it at the wanted criminal. "Maybe capturing someone of your stature dead or alive would have silenced all those meddlesome fools working under me and finally gotten me some damned respect around here. Hell, I was planning on running for mayor before this cluster fuck started, capturing you Mr. Cavanaugh could have probably sent my approval ratings through the roof and given me some much needed ammunition in the race against that useless Warren coward."

Brian Irons then sighed heavily and spun around in his chair to face the tacky modern art painting consisting of mostly black and a variety of lurid colors on the wall behind him, which concealed the secret puzzle he would use to get into the passageway behind a false section of wall that led down to his secret "workshop of horrors."

"But alas that is not to be, not in this decrepit nightmare," he said quietly shaking his head and gently rocking himself in his chair.

"In a previous time, you would have been a threat Mr. Cavanaugh, but no more. Still a degenerate nobody punk, yes, but a serious threat, no. Umbrella is the only threat around here now and soon they would consume you along with everything else. It would be a waste of time to hunt him down now; soon he'll end up just like the others."

The madman sat back in a near catatonic state staring into nothing, not even broken by a resounding explosion that had come from where his front entrance had once been. He could register footsteps too, too fast to be those of a walking cadaver. Perhaps Umbrella had sent somebody to silence him after all if it wasn't that Cavanaugh fellow.

Author's Note: Jake is getting closer and closer and closer to his objective despite all the potholes sidetracking him, but he moves further with every step. Tune in for the next chapter where Jake will do battle with Mr. X, yes JAKE VS. MR. X next chapter! Bring your drinks and snacks (and possibly tarps too if it gets too bloody) because I have quite the battle planned for this next chapter. Until then, read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	29. Chapter 24: They Call Me X

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Chapter 24: They Call Me X

Jake raised his submachine gun and fired a volley of hot lead into the Mr. X Tyrant's upper torso, gradually working his way up from the beast's chest into its stone cold face. The rounds only succeeded in snapping its head back and the beast looked down in its typical emotionless stare, unable to tell if it was angered by his attack or not.

Mr. X said nothing and grabbed a computer monitor from the nearby desk, drawing its arm back and chucking it like he was throwing a baseball. Jake saw the object flying in his direction and quickly ducked behind a desk.

"Damn, this guy's fast," the career criminal said checking his current clip, "but so was Nemesis and this joker doesn't seem to understand the concept of running." He carefully peeked his head up to see Mr. X walking robotically down the aisle after him and he was getting closer.

Breaking into another frantic run, Jake practically leapt behind another row of desks as he ran sideways firing his gun at the creature striking it several more times in the chest and neck before he stop and wasted the rest of his clip on the marching behemoth.

Jake looked down to the M-203 grenade launcher attachment strapped to his MP5, "Alright, time to see what the fuck you can do against this Terminator wannabe!" he said pumping the weapon.

Mr. X continued his relentless march towards the career criminal, the wounds in its chest slowly beginning to close up. Its mission was unknown, but it was programmed to eliminate anything that stood in the way, excluding Umbrella personnel.

Readying his grenade launcher, Jake stood up again and planted his foot firmly into the floor as he fired. The hissing round struck the Tyrant squarely in the chest and knocked it back a few steps, but nowhere near from its feet.

"Have another!" he shouted firing another explosive shell into the creature's chest, causing it to nearly stumble over another desk. The creature shrugged and brought its wrecking ball-like fist down onto the desk, obliterating it completely with its deathly touch. Jake took a few steps back and fired another round, catching the beast in the gut and causing it to buckle over slightly and limp a few steps before it continued its monstrous pursuit.

Jake quickly moved over into a corner to fire another burst that caught the monster in the shoulder and overturned a metal filing cabinet hoping it would get caught as it passed. Using the distance given, the career criminal quickly slid in a fresh clip and squeezed off a few extra rounds on Mr. X's head, who shook the rounds off like he was being pelted by beanbags.

"This fucker's going to take a little work," Jake thought as he waited for the beast to round the corner. As he expected, the brute dumbly walked into his trap, getting its massive foot caught in the overturned filing cabinet, leaving a large indentation in the metal surface like it had just stepped into a mud puddle. The creature grunted in frustration as it attempted to remove its massive foot, but it was stuck and left open for more attacks. Firing another round from his grenade launcher, the beast was struck in the head and knocked into nearby wall, leaving a large indent.

"Just keep coming to me and I'll have you down in no time, pal," Jake nodded firing another round at the brute and destroying a large portion of the wall behind it followed by another knocking the monster further back. He was getting low on explosive rounds and would soon be forced to retreat and reload. Just as he prepared to fire his next round he was completely caught by surprise.

Using all its strength, Mr. X lifted its leg up and literally heaved the filing cabinet into the air like it was kicking a soccer ball. It was something Jake wasn't even prepared for and he barely had time to duck beneath the large metal container as it went crashing into the nearest wall and crumpled like a soda can.

"Holy…" Jake didn't even have time to get the next word out as the brute was hovering over him with amazing speed and about to bring its foot down. Rolling off to the side as fast as he could, he barely missed the giant's massive boot and a small crater was left where his head once rested.

Before Jake could completely rise back to his feet, the giant shot out its massive hand and grabbed him by the back of his coat. Once again utilizing his superior speed, the career criminal struggled a bit before he managed to slip out of his trench coat and rolled himself over another desk. The giant only stared at him with its emotionless gaze and proceeded to tear his trademark black trench coat to shreds.

"Man, first these freaks ruin my favorite shirt, now they rip my favorite coat to shreds!" Jake thought to himself as he stood up and fired another round from his grenade launcher, "If they even touch my War Eagles there will be hell to pay," he thought as he felt the leather case in his pocket containing his prized sunglasses.

The robotic brute raised both its fists into the air and came down with a double hammer punch shattering another desk into pieces and then drew its arm back to attempt another haymaker punch on the career criminal.

Jake quickly sidestepped the attack and fired a few potshots into the giant's backside before firing another explosive round. By then his adversary had turned around, forcing him to roll backwards and fire another round into its chest. "Fuckin' A!" he grunted and then in an act of desperation, pulled out one of his Bowie knives from a shin holster and chucked it at the monster, catching it squarely in the right eye.

The brute was suddenly stopped dead in its tracks and let out a slight grunt as it stopped to pull the steel blade from its eye socket, a purplish blood spilling out from the socket where its right eye once was. Tilting its head back, the beast closed its massive fist around blood-drenched knife and the crunching of metal sounded. Opening its hand a second later, Mr. X let the piece of warped steel that was once Jake's Bowie knife clatter to the tiled floor. Lowering its head, the Tyrant allowed the last of its diseased blood to trickle from its face followed by the sounds of crunching bone and ripping sinew and then opened its right eye to reveal a new one had seemingly grown in place of the old one. By now the monster was visibly ticked off as a frown crossed its seemingly cement face and with another grunt, performed a powerful hammer punch to the tiled floor.

The entire room vibrated under the force of the giant's powerful strike and Jake was knocked from his feet like a rag doll, falling at the base of a water cooler and bringing his arms up just in time to prevent the half-full cooler from falling on his face.

More earth-shattering footfalls followed and Jake wiped the water from his face to see his ever defiant pursuer gaining ground on him once again, reaching one of its colossal hands out with fingers ready to clamp down on his skull like a vice grip and then crush it like an egg.

Trying to inch backward, Jake fired his last explosive shell into the beast's face and temporarily stunned it long enough for him to rise back to his feet. Looking up, he saw that he had been beneath an electrical box and then got another idea.

The Tyrant thrashed about wildly before him, blinded by that shell to the face. He noticed that the B.O.W. seemed to have enhanced hearing and would play that to his advantage. Firing another barrage into the giant's chest and face, the criminal's plan was working as he saw the beast stumble towards him and he ducked under a blind clothesline from his adversary and then knocked on the electrical box in front of him and then quickly dove off to the side. Acting on instinct the creature followed the sound of the noise and drove its fist straight into the electrical box.

A loud explosion followed by several lesser sparks occurred and within seconds waves of electricity were coursing through the behemoth's tank-like body, forcing to spasm uncontrollably, but making no screams of anguish as it convulsed and thrashed. A few violent pops later the brute collapsed to the floor and lay perfectly still.

"Damn…now that was a rush right there," Jake gasped supporting himself on a nearby desk. He had just emerged victorious over one of the Umbrella Corporation's top B.O.W.'s, a literal walking battle tank with a seemingly bottomless reservoir of endurance that had just come after him for no known reason. It was doubtful that this had been sent by Birkin himself, but then again after reading what Sebastian had written in his diary, he wouldn't put the doctor past being involved in such activity.

Still, the career criminal remained leery of standing in a room with the fallen giant. He had seen plenty of horror movies in his life to know that the bad guy never dies after the first confrontation and just stepping near it would mean the "dead" villain suddenly springing back to life and breaking the hapless survivor in half.

From near the giant's prone form, he noticed the glint of metal and from a safe distance laid two extra speed loaders for his magnum revolver that he hadn't noticed before. Jake silently crept towards the extra ammunition, never taking his eyes off of the sleeping monstrosity and knelt down to quickly swipe the extra ammo before quietly backing out of the room with MP5 trained on the downed brute the whole time.

Stepping back into the corridor he was met by another click coming from behind.

"Lower your weapon at once!" a voice came from behind, one filled with anxiety.

Spinning around with weapon raised, he found himself facing another young officer in a grime-spattered uniform with his head completely shaved, whom he recognized as George Scott, the officer who had spent a lot of time around Mayor Warren. In shaky hands he held a Remington M1100 shotgun, a look of unsure anxiousness in his blue eyes. Whatever was going on, he looked unsure to be pointing his gun at another human being and Jake gradually lowered his submachine gun.

"You're that Smith guy aren't you?" Officer Scott asked.

Jake nodded and then looked over to the office he had just emerged from.

"I-I heard a bunch of gunfire and some monster's screams. I thought the cavalry had arrived, but then I heard nothing so I was hoping somebody was still alive out here and I came to check," Officer Scott replied and then looked a little closer at Jake, "Is it just you or are there any other survivors around here?"

Jake nodded again, "Yeah, I encountered another fellow officer of yours, that Leon guy that was supposed to be starting today and he had some girl with him, says she's the sister of one of your S.T.A.R.S. members."

"Thank God, I was starting to think I was the last person left alive around here," the officer sighed falling back against the wall and slinking into a sitting position.

"What are you doing here? Weren't you supposed to have escaped with the others?" Jake asked looking down to the distressed officer.

George nodded slightly, "I was. I was trying to escape with them, but we were attacked by another one of those Licker creatures. Before I know it, I was in a hall all by myself and then I looked out and saw Lt. Bernstein running towards some convertible waiting for her outside the main gates. I tried running after her, but there were more of those zombies and I was forced back in side. There are still plenty of those undead bastards running around, so I had to find somewhere to hide." The officer rose slowly back to his feet and motioned towards a nearby green door, "I've been hiding in the press room for the past day hoping somebody would come to help and then I heard all the gunfire. Now that I see it's just you, I don't know if that will be enough."

Officer Scott the made his way back towards the press room and Jake followed closely behind. Once inside the officer locked the door behind them and took a seat at the back of the room.

The press room was rather small for holding press conferences, most of the space taken up by the tables, chairs and camera equipment. In the northwestern corner of the room was a furnace and on the wall behind the main podium were three statues of women with torches beneath them and on the wall near the entrance was a weird painting with a golden cog wheel attached to it.

At the back of the room, the officer had made a sort of "living quarters" for himself where several empty soda cans and food wrappers lay along with some boxes of shotgun shells that had been opened. Two blankets had been laid out behind a table along with a pillow he had found somewhere. The man's sidearm stuck out from underneath the pillow, a technique the career criminal himself had practiced.

"Any idea how much longer you plan on holding up in here?" Jake asked almost grossed out by the garish dark red wallpaper, "I doubt there will be any cavalry coming through to save us."

"No idea," the officer replied. "I thought I'd come out when somebody else showed up, but I was hoping there would be more than just you, unless you can find those two people who were just with you."

Jake remembered the radio given to him by Leon and he picked it up, "Leon, Claire, do you copy?" he spoke loud and clear, "I have found another survivor in the station's press room, an Officer George Scott. Do you copy? Over."

"Affirmative" Leon spoke over his radio.

"Got it," Claire replied from her line, "I shouldn't be too far away from you."

"How are you two holding up?" Jake spoke into his radio, the officer now getting close to him happy to hear the voices of other survivors.

"Heh, as good as I can be, just a lot of those Licker freaks crawling around here still," Leon replied with a slight chuckle.

"Leon, Jake, I've found the girl and I've cleared the helicopter wreckage that was blocking the corridor," Claire reported, catching the career criminal's attention.

"Wait, did you just say you found a little girl?" Jake asked.

"Yeah, her name is Sherry."

A little girl's voice was then heard, "Wait a minute, is that Jake? Jake, it's me Sherry!" she shouted happily.

"Hey kid, how ya' doing?" he replied, his rough glare softening a little.

"I'm doing fine, I found Claire and she's going to help me out!" she shouted gleefully, but then the line suddenly went dead.

"Sherry, Claire, is either one of you there? Answer me!" Jake shouted into his radio. A few tense seconds of silence followed before he finally got a reply.

"I'm here Jake;" Claire replied solemnly, "Sherry took off. We heard this loud roar and then she was talking about something out there much bigger than the zombies and then she ran away. I'm going to find her, just hang tight."

"I'll be on the look out for her too," Leon cut in, "I'm just coming down from the clock tower as we speak."

"Count me in," Jake replied and then set the radio down.

"That poor thing," George spoke, "all alone in this station with the living dead running about and something much worse."

A thunderous explosion obliterated a portion of the wall to their right and from the smoke appeared a familiar adversary.

"I thought right…" Jake said to himself as he stood face to face with Mr. X, who had returned to go another round.

"What the hell is that?" George asked raising his shotgun protectively next to the career criminal.

"A pissed off giant with a mighty big chip on his shoulder," Jake replied and withdrew his S&W magnum revolver. "You take him from the left, I'll take him from the right," he whispered to the officer.

Mr. X stared at both men as he began his march, his dark green trench coat now heavily blackened and covered in bullet holes from his earlier confrontation with the career criminal. Temporarily diverted from its mission, the B.O.W. had a new side objective in mind, to take out the human that had eluded its grasp before.

Jake nodded to George and began firing rounds into the beast's neck and face, causing it to stumble backwards and groan in pain, stomping on the ground and causing another earthquake and collapsing several ceiling tiles from above. Unperturbed, the giant strode forth and shattered a nearby camera with a slight backhand.

George pumped his shotgun and fired two blasts into the creature's considerable chest, the shells almost sinking in like they were striking a mound of clay. His last shots began to find their mark as he struck the creature in the head several times, purple slime spilling all over as the shells connected.

Affected by the blasts, the giant sunk down to one knee and pounded the ground repeatedly as its head shook and grunted a few times before it looked up, the purplish-black slime dripping from its face as its wounds healed.

"Shit!" George cursed as he fished through his pockets for any more shotgun shells he could find and struggled to reload the gun while backing up at the same time. Mr. X was now only a few feet away from him and in a few steps would be able to swing one of its tree trunk-like arms out and probably knock his head off in the process.

"Over here Frankenstein!" Jake hollered spinning a fresh loader into his revolver and firing a round that caught the beast in the side of its head. The Tyrant staggered from the blow and shifted its attention towards him. The crafty criminal rolled over another nearby table and fired two more shots into its forehead, knocking the brute backwards and splattering its blood all over the wall behind it. George rolled to a side of the monster and fired more rounds of buckshot into the monstrosity's tank-like surface scoring a few bloody shots on its head and neck area to send it wobbling a little more.

"Time for you to fall you piece of shit," Jake shouted and fired what was left of his current rounds into the lumbering behemoth's visage.

Groaning like a piece of broken machinery, the wounded Mr. X teetered drunkenly before it fell to the floor causing a tremor that nearly knocked both men from their feet and left spider webs of cracks all around its form.

"Come on, we have to find Leon and Claire!" Jake shouted and ripped the door open behind him.

"Right behind you!" George called out and hopped over the fallen behemoth, only to have it shoot its right hand out and clamp down on the officer's ankle. With a squeeze of its gargantuan hand, the bio-weapon crunched the human's bones like crumpling a piece of paper.

"Help me!" the officer screamed as he lay writhing on the floor in pain. Mr. X rose quickly back to its feet and lifted George back to his feet, throwing him against the nearest wall and knocking over more camera equipment. He tried weakly to raise his shotgun, but was knocked backwards by a powerful punch that shattered two of his ribs.

Jake saw the officer's predicament and flew through the air, delivering a powerful flying kick to the middle of the bio-weapon's back, knocking it forward a bit. "You were playing with me fuckface!" the criminal shouted and drew his remaining Bowie knife. With the fury of a wild animal, the career criminal began hacking away at the monster's neck and upper back areas, spraying black blood all over before finally stabbing the long blade into the back of the Tyrant's skull.

Mr. X growled in annoyance and backhanded the smaller career criminal with enough force to send him flying across the room, his fall broken by the thick Kevlar vest covering his muscular torso.

Despite being seriously injured, the distraction created an opening for George and he fired several rounds from his sidearm into the giant's neck and facial areas. Returning its attention to the officer, Mr. X grunted its displeasure and snatched the man's handgun away from him, crumpling it into an indiscernible hunk of twisted metal. Reaching down with its free hand, the B.O.W. grabbed the injured officer by his neck and hoisted him into the air, ready to crush his neck much like it had his ankle until a round found its way into the side of his skull.

Jake had only been knocked out for a few seconds after being tossed against the wall, but it had seemed much longer. He came through to find the gigantic Mr. X holding the injured George Scott in the air with one hand ready to crush his throat where he stood. His S&W M629C laid on the ground inches in front of him having fallen out of his shoulder holster when he hit the wall. Quickly scooping the gun up, he steadied his aim and fired a round into the side of the Tyrant's head.

Mr. X was stunned by the blow and released the injured officer turning its rattled gaze towards the career criminal, who by now had risen back to his feet and fired two more shots into its thick cranium, knocking it flat onto its back.

Jake was pleased with his work, but not finished. Walking past the injured George, he fired his three remaining rounds into Mr. X's skull to make sure he wouldn't get up again.

"Jake…a little help here…" George called out weakly reaching for him. The officer was badly injured by the B.O.W. and would be useless in a fight. He could tell that the man had shattered ribs that had probably poked into some of his vital organs and wouldn't survive much longer without proper medical treatment.

"I'm coming," Jake said and reached down to carefully lift the officer into a standing position with one arm wrapped around his shoulders and using his shotgun as a crutch in the other to avoid placing pressure on his injured ankle. "We've gotta get you far away from here," he said looking back to the fallen giant, who laid there unmoving and probably playing possum waiting for them to approach his prone form again so he could reach up and snap their necks like twigs.

Jake led the injured man through the unlocked door and back into the corridor where he led him around the corner only to be met with another gun to their faces.

Standing before them was a beautiful woman of Asian-American descent in a red cocktail dress with short, stylishly cut black hair pointing a Browning HP in their direction.

"Oh, you're both human" she spoke in a low cat-like purr, "I heard the footsteps and I thought more zombies were coming after me."

"Yeah, yeah look we're kind of in a hurry right now so you can lower the gun," Jake replied gesturing to the injured officer he carried, who managed a weak smile towards the woman.

"What's the big hurry boys," she spoke placing a hand on her hip and tapping her pistol lightly against the other, "Aren't we going to get acquainted?" adopting a sexier tone like she was trying to seduce both of them.

"Fine, I'm Jake Smith and he's George Scott. Not to sound like a dick or anything lady, but there's a sleeping giant in the other room who's likely to be very pissed when he wakes up and we want to be as far away as possible after seeing what he did to my companion here." Jake replied in a more urgent tone motioning towards the officer again.

"The name's Ada Wong," the woman answered, "probably just another nameless face to you who should've been out of here a long time ago, but we'll get to that later if you insist."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So you came all the way into this mess just to look for your boyfriend, huh?" Jake asked sitting on a desk with his muscular arms crossed in front of him.

Ada knelt down in front of a small sofa where George was laid out with his ankle heavily bandaged and surrounded by a large bag of ice. She was just in the middle of finishing a bandage wrapped around the officer's ribs when she turned to reply.

"Yes, I came to find my boyfriend. His name is John Fay and he's a researcher with the Raccoon division of Umbrella, Inc." she replied looking the criminal directly in the eyes, her almond shaped dark brown eyes meeting his bluish-gray ones.

"One of those researchers from the photo," Jake thought to himself. He assumed the man probably would have known William Birkin, but decided against asking Ada with a cop present. Being a researcher's girlfriend, there were probably even things she didn't know about the man that he was probably forbidden to tell her about.

"Okay," she said standing up from the fallen officer, "I've given him some morphine. He'll probably be out of it for a while, but at least he shouldn't be feeling any pain until we can get somebody through here to rescue him."

"Good, I have some friends here that should be on their way any minute now," Jake said peeking through the blinds of a nearby window still on the lookout for Mr. X, whom he assumed was probably somewhere close by.

"We don't have much time though," the woman replied walking over to him and standing near a desk, "Your friend appears to have some busted ribs and I can't tell if they've punctured any of his vital organs, but he probably won't last much longer unless we can get him some medical attention…"

Before she could say anymore, Jake placed his gloved hand over Ada's mouth and raised his finger motioning for her to quiet down.

"Shhh, can you hear that?" he asked leaning further towards the window. The woman followed suit and listened as they heard the thunderous footfalls that could only belong to Mr. X, the only problem was they could not determine exactly where they were coming from. George seemed to hear the footsteps too and stirred awake at the booming noises.

Jake again withdrew his S&W and Ada readied her Browning, she looked back to where George's Remington rest and kept a close eye on it. The duo listened for a few more footsteps and then they suddenly stopped.

"They stopped?" Ada asked slightly lowering her handgun and looking to Jake, who stood with his back to her. The career criminal could sense something coming from above.

"We're not out of the woods yet."

The ceiling collapsed above them and Mr. X came crashing down, leaving a crater in the floor where he landed and overturning the couch George rested on. The giant stared down both of them before suddenly turning its attention to George and grabbing him by the neck again. With a sickening snap, George Scott was no more and his limp body was tossed aside like a broken toy.

Jake nodded to Ada and the two proceeded to open fire on the giant, aiming right away for his head. Ada's bullets only seemed to mildly annoy the brute like mosquito bites, but the rounds from Jake's superior handgun had greater impact and forced the beast to stagger back several steps.

"Quick, get to the hall now!" Jake ordered as he ejected his spent rounds and slid a new speed loader into his revolver in one fluid motion. Ada fired what was left of her current clip and exited through the double doors behind them.

The career criminal waited for the woman and unclipped a grenade from his belt, "Now get to the other hall! We're about to have a fire in the hole!"

"Quite the bossy type aren't you?" Ada sarcastically shot back.

"Just go!" he shouted as Mr. X punched the double doors open and began marching towards him. Pulling the pin out with his teeth, Jake quickly rolled the grenade towards the brute and threw himself around a corner. A loud boom followed a few seconds later and peeked around the corner to see the beast knocked down, but not out cold. He quickly ran back to the hall where he had come from to find Ada waiting for him.

"Did you kill it?" she asked anxiously clutching her gun tightly.

"No," the criminal replied shaking his head, "but it's still pretty pissed off and you'd better be ready." He stood with gun trained on the door ready for the second it would come crashing through.

With a yank, Mr. X appeared, ripping the door from its hinges and tossing it aside as his massive form broke away fractions of the surrounding doorframe.

Cocking his might S&W, Jake began firing away at the approaching behemoth and Ada stood alongside him firing into the undead mammoth beast that had stalked him relentlessly from room to room. It was important for him to keep his cool, but this creature's endurance was starting to get to him. This would not crack away at his mental surface, he was the master and he was in full control of his emotions.

"Come on," he spoke in the coolest tone he possibly could, giving away no hint of fear whatsoever. The man continued firing his gun with the will of a man possessed, everything blurring around him as he focused on gunning down his attacker and sending him to a cold grave.

Ada Wong stood near the career criminal firing away at the creature's thick skull. She was getting dangerously low on ammo and would soon be forced to retreat. Finding her boyfriend wasn't the only thing she was looking for here in Raccoon City and she knew she had a lot more traveling ahead of her. This Jake fellow she was with seemed perfectly capable of handling himself and by his accounts had already survived two previous encounters with the colossus. Looking around, the spy spotted a ventilation duct that would probably be big enough for her to fit through. The mysterious gentleman would have to do without her.

Jake fired the last round of his current speed loader and reached into his side pack for another. "Ada, how are you holding up on ammo?"

No answer.

"Ada?" he asked again and turned to find the woman nowhere in sight. An opened ventilation duct confirmed her whereabouts, one that would be too small for him to fit through. "Damn…" he cursed under his breath and it was then that he turned to find the giant almost on top of him.

Reaching its large fist back, Mr. X prepared for another power punch directed at the criminal's face and seemed to pick up speed as it charged. Jake dodged the blow with another perfectly timed sidestep and the Tyrant drove its fist into the steel door of the interrogation room, leaving a large circular dent where it connected.

Jake stood off to the side ready to fire more rounds into the creature's face when he heard a loud plunking noise followed by the burning hiss of acid striking the Tyrant's back.

Claire Redfield stood behind the two combatants winking to the career criminal and fired another acid round striking the B.O.W. in the chest. "Figured you'd need some help," she spoke up loading another acid round. Jake resumed his attack, again aiming for the Tyrant's head while the woman kept the beast distracted with her damaging acid rounds.

Although it made no sounds, they could tell they were deeply infuriating the behemoth as it began to flail its arms around wildly in thin air, but was blinded by the acid and powerful magnum rounds being fired in its direction.

Jake fired away at the beast until his magnum again clicked empty and then he looked down to the four remaining grenades clipped to his belt and then back to the wobbling giant. "Claire, get out of here now!" he shouted ripping the grenade from his belt and bolting towards the woman, seizing her by the arm. Looking over his shoulder he pulled the pin and tossed the grenade at the feet of Mr. X.

The two survivors continued running long after the blast until they found themselves back in the main hall and they both fell over panting heavily.

"I see you've encountered that bald-headed freak too!" Claire gasped bracing herself on the nearby banister.

"You mean you've already encountered Frankenstein before?" Jake asked leaning against the wall near a window and looking over his shoulder to see if anyone or anything was outside.

"Yeah, right after I put out the 'copter fire on the rooftop I saw some weird unmarked helicopter flying overhead and it dropped this large canister," the young woman spoke making hand gestures to emphasize the width of the object. "I didn't want to find out what it was, so I went back inside hoping I could avoid it, but before you know it, that same brute came crashing through the ceiling and tried to kill me."

"Damn…" Jake said stepping back from the window and then turned to face her again, "Did you find anything else? You said you found Sherry."

"Yeah, I found her hiding in the back room of Chief Iron's personal storage room," Claire reported loading fresh acid rounds into her grenade launcher.

"Irons!" Jake grunted, punching his right fist into an open palm, "That fat, slimy bastard…" he snarled with great distaste remembering how the Chief had nearly ended his life.

"I found him too," Claire added, a look of disgusted horror crossing her delicate features, "he was in his office and he had the mayor's daughter laid out on his desk ready to do God knows what. I swear that creep is out of this world and I wasn't sticking around much longer to find out what else he had in mind."

"You're right, that fat piece of shit is out of his mind," Jake growled slapping a new speed loader into his magnum revolver, "That bastard tried to shoot me dead. I had his fat ass cornered and was about to put him out of his misery when our gigantic friend in the trench coat decided to crash the party."

"Oh dear God, Sherry…" Claire gasped placing a gloved hand to her mouth, "I'm going to have to find her before that creep can get his hands on her!" The woman looked closely at Jake again, "You said you knew her right? She recognized your voice when you came on."

"Yeah, yeah I was talking to her before you came along," Jake said now checking over his MP5, "I saved her from one of those undead mutts, I'd say I've won her trust enough by now."

"We have to find her before anything can happen to her," Claire spoke with greater urgency, "I'm going to search the west wing for her. If you find anything please let me know immediately!"

"You got it!" Jake replied with thumbs up and waited for her to disappear through the set of double doors leading to the waiting room before he turned on his heel and made his way back into the east wing.

With MP5 in one hand, he reached into his pocket with the other and pulled out the heart-shaped key he found in the west wing office.

"Let's see if I can find anything in those rooms I haven't touched yet down in the basement."

Author's Note: Well there you have it, the first official confrontation between Jake and Mr. X. It's probably not as epic as I thought it would be, but I did try to make Mr. X look like a relentless stalker whom you'd have to go through Hell and high water to avoid. Read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	30. Chapter 25: Impending Doom

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Chapter 25: Impending Doom

With a single round to the skull, the last zombie fell to the tiled floor never to rise again.

Jake blew the smoke away from the silenced Beretta he twirled with the grace of an Old Western gunfighter. He had entered the men's locker room to find five zombies staggering about, all of which now laid broken in pools of their own infected blood. Searching around the room he managed to locate a box of handgun bullets hidden behind a wastebasket near the shower entrance and another in a pried open locker. He also found some healing herbs near the entrance which he combined together and would save for a special occasion. Several cases of shotgun shells were also found that he would probably leave out for Leon and some clips of DOT 50 A.E. rounds compatible with a Desert Eagle magnum.

The career criminal had already explored the women's locker room finding a few chewed up corpses and three zombified female officers stumbling about, but nothing else of interest. After the locker rooms there was still the shooting range, generator room, morgue, armory and parking lot that needed to be explored and he made his way to the door labeled "SHOOTING RANGE" while being on the lookout for any more demon dogs like he encountered when he first came back down.

Quietly turning the handle, Jake entered the lobby area with gun raised to find several large blood splatters and bloody footprints around the booths and loud masticating noises. Moving as quietly as he could, he approached one of the booths to find a pack of infected Dobermans huddled around a corpse ripping away everything they possibly could. Wasting no time with the extra threat, the career criminal pumped his grenade launcher and sent an explosive shell soaring into the middle of the crowd, reducing all of them to tiny strips of ragged fur.

"Fucking flea bitten mongrels," Jake grunted shaking his head. Despite his distrust for most people, he had always held a soft spot for dogs of all kinds, having once been a dog owner himself, and he almost always went out of his way to avoid harming them. The past few days had seen him kill quite a few infected canines and the cruelty which had transformed these once innocent dogs got even under his skin and he hoped he would never have to harm another dog ever again once this mess was over with.

Jake searched the racks and found only a few empty pistols and an empty shotgun lying around. In a large cabinet he found some napalm rounds compatible with his M-203 attachment and slipped them into his side pack. With nothing else of interest in the room he decided to move on to his next stop, the generator room.

The career criminal reentered the damp, darkened hallway remaining careful around any nearby corpses to make sure none of them would rise back up and attack him. Hugging his back to the wall, he inched towards the double red doors of the generator room with wide steps and quickly flung himself inside, only to be met with another shotgun jammed in his face.

"What the…oh Jake it's you!" the youthful voice of Leon Kennedy called out.

Jake turned to see the rookie officer lowering his shotgun. The younger man's outfit now had a few bloodstains on it and his face was drenched in sweat, but otherwise he looked fine and genuinely happy to see one of his fellow survivors.

"Yeah, better me than one of those zombies," he replied trying to lighten the mood a little and then looked back to a control panel with some glowing red lights. "Were you in the middle of something?"

Leon took note of what Jake was looking at and looked back to the panel, "Oh yeah, I was in the middle of trying to restore power to the armory's card reader." The cop made his way back towards the panel motioning for Jake to follow. "We need a special card key to access the armory, unfortunately I haven't been able to find one anywhere yet. The autopsy room is locked and all I saw was some club-shaped engraving over the lock, so that's a no-go right now. Besides, I highly doubt I'd wanna set foot in one after what I've been seeing around this place, this is nothing but a morgue itself."

"Ha, I heard that," Jake snorted and stood back as he watched the officer flip a couple switches and the line move back and forth on the meter. "Any idea what's up then if our possible goldmine is off limits?"

A loud beeping noise was heard indicating the officer had solved the puzzle, "Got it!" Leon then turned to the taller man, "I say we search the parking garage, I haven't been there yet."

"You really should search the men's locker room while you're at it. I found some shotgun shells you could use and some magnum ammo. Only problem is you don't have a magnum right now and my gun isn't compatible," Jake spoke pulling out his magnum revolver and showing the officer. "It looks like they'd go with a Desert Eagle. Hopefully you'll find one around here somewhere."

"Yeah," the officer replied looking down to his shotgun, "This bad boy has become a close friend of mine during this nightmare, but never hurts to have the extra firepower."

The two men exited the generator room and Jake waited for Leon as he made a mad dash to the men's locker room and found the ammo the criminal had mentioned and then the duo entered the parking garage.

Aside from the dead bodies littering the pavement, the parking lot was empty. The moans from outside filtered in through the steel mesh gates, causing the rookie cop to look around nervously.

"I don't see anything, come on!" Jake loudly whispered and ran towards the end of the room, where a S.W.A.T. transport truck had been parked in front of another door and needed to be moved. The rookie cop followed closely behind until a warning shot from behind brought both men to a halt.

"Huh?"

They turned around to find Ada Wong standing there brandishing her Browning HP and lowering it upon viewing the two men.

"Sorry about that. When I saw the uniform, I thought you were another zombie," she spoke in her distinctive nonchalant purr. Her demeanor chilled when she spotted Jake. "Oh Jake, I didn't know you were with him!"

"Wait a minute!" the cop cried looking back and forth anxiously between Jake and the woman, "Who are you?"

"Ada Wong," she spoke walking towards them.

"And what are you doing here?" the cop asked as she brushed past him.

"Yeah, you were supposed to be watching my back against that Frankenstein-wannabe back there and then you suddenly vanished into thin air," Jake demanded crossing his arms across his well-defined chest.

"I'm looking for some guy named Ben," she said turning to both men, "He's one of those reporter types; always looking for a scoop. I heard he was locked up in the cell block, only there's this van barring the entrance. I've been trying to find another way inside."

"Must be a pretty important scoop for you to run off on me like that," Jake said walking behind the woman as she approached the transport truck.

"We'll worry about that later, now do you care to give a lady a hand? This truck won't move itself," Ada asked fluttering her eyes at him as she took a position behind it.

"Why not?" Jake sarcastically asked looking back to Leon, who took a position to his right while the taller, well-built criminal stood in the middle. With all the strength they could muster, the trio pushed the truck forward until it would go no further and by then they had moved it far enough. Without a word, Ada pulled the door open and took off down the dark hall.

"Ada wait!" Leon cried and then looked back to Jake. The rookie cop pulled out his receiver and pushed the talk button, "Do you read me Claire? I'm with Jake and we now have access to the back of the parking lot."

"Got it. I'm on my way," she replied and then hung up.

"Well what are we waiting for?" Jake asked and started after Ada. The duo ran down the short hallway before they reached the chain-link gate leading to the cell block area.

Ignoring the dead zombie laying on the floor, both men searched the cells before happening upon the last one on the left and noticed a figure lying on a cot.

"Think that's him?" Jake asked.

"Let me guess, you must be Ben right?" Leon called out and started wrapping on the bars, "Get up, now!"

The figure stirred awake and slowly sat up rubbing his eyes, "What do you want? I'm trying to sleep here!" the man rudely snapped and walked towards the gate. The man was in his late twenties to early thirties and almost looked like your typical white collar worker with his white dress shirt, burgundy tie and brown pinstripe dress pants. His dark reddish-brown hair was pulled back into a short ponytail and he carried an air of great distaste at being woken up.

The screeching metal of the cell block's gate opening was heard and the trio looked to find Ada running towards them.

"Is this the guy?" Leon asked.

The mysterious woman ignored him and started in on the reporter, "Ben? You told the city officials that you knew something about what's been going on, didn't you? What did you tell them?"

"And who the heck are you?" Ben scowled at the new face.

"Just listen to me for a minute," the woman begged, "I'm trying to find my boyfriend. His name's John Fay and he was working for a branch office of Umbrella based in Chicago, but he suddenly disappeared six months ago. I heard a rumor that he's here in the city."

"I don't know anything," the man rudely rebutted turning his back on the three strangers, "and even if I did, why would I want to tell you?"

"Asshole," Jake muttered under his breath.

"I heard that," Ben shot back and turned around taking a step towards the door, "Don't think I'm going to give out information to some lowly thug from the streets either," he spoke defiantly crossing his arms.

Jake grunted and stepped right up to the bars pulling out his lock pick, "I'd watch myself if I were you, pal. You happen to be dealing with an expert lock picker and I'm about ready to come in there and beat any information out of you if I have to!" He started going to work on the lock to prove he wasn't bluffing.

"No, you wouldn't!" Ben shouted leaping towards the door, "There is a cop with you and I'm sure you'd be in for some major trouble if you were to assault a member of the press in his very presence."

The career criminal looked back to Leon, who shared his look of disgust and then turned back to Ben, "Being the ill-tempered asshole that you've been to us, I highly doubt my friend in blue would care very much." Before Jake could do any more, he was held back by Ada.

"Okay, I say we leave him in there. Does anyone know where they put the key to this cell?" Leon asked looking down to the officer's corpse.

"I have it right here officer," the reporter replied pulling the set of keys from his pocket, "I took it from the prison guard, but I'm not about to leave this cell. Those zombies aren't the only things crawling around out there. There's something else out there, something big."

An ear-splitting roar sounded through the lower levels, rocking the building's foundation and forcing the three survivors to jump about looking for the source of the noise while Ben leaned against a wall looking at the floor.

"What was that?" Leon called out gripping his shotgun tightly.

"Like I said, I'm not leaving this cell. Get out of here before you lead it right to me!" Ben ordered crossing his arms again.

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere. I'm the only cop left alive in this building!" Leon retorted.

"What?"

"Look, if you want to live, then you're gonna have to leave with us," Leon explained motioning to Jake and Ada.

"But…do you even know how to get out of the city? There's a kennel in the back of the building. Inside the kennel is a manhole, go through and it will lead you to the sewer entrance, but it won't be easy." Ben stared at the survivors for a few seconds and then sat down on his cot.

"Alright, I'm going!" Ada shouted and then stormed off.

"Ada, wait!" Leon called out and then looked back to Jake, "Come on, we have to find her."

The two men made their way back into the hall and quickly happened across the kennel and entered to find a few dead infected Dobermans and a short, hefty man in a blue uniform who had been their meal, but no Ada in sight.

"That must be the manhole he was talking about," Jake said motioning to the rusty lid and nudging the man's corpse aside. Looking to where a cluster of dog food bags were kept, Leon found a manhole opener and with a few yanks managed to pry the cover open.

"Damn and I thought those zombies smelled bad," Leon jumped back crinkling his nose at the vile odor waving the scent away from him.

"Bitch about that later, come on," Jake said as he descended the rusted ladder and hit the shin deep water below. Switching on his flashlight, he made his move the second Leon's feet touched the water and continued moving until he brought his hand up.

"I hear something else," he whispered to the cop and strained his ears for the noises. A strange hissing noise followed by the movement of several pairs of feet sounded on the walls, leading him to believe in might be a Licker or something entirely new. He kept the light shined on the wall until a large figure moved into view.

"Shit, a spider!" Leon cried and brushed past the criminal quickly firing several barrages of buckshot at the approaching mutated arachnid, managing to break off a few of its appendages.

The beast attacking them looked like an ordinary spider, except it was half the size of a Volkswagen Beetle and it hissed at both men before it spewed some kind of mist from its "mouth."

Jake saw the beast open its mouth and new something was about to happen. Acting on instinct he grabbed the rookie cop and flung both of themselves into a nearby alcove as the spider shot some kind of mist that collided with the water and abruptly evaporated upon contact. "Whatever that shit is, I'm not about to find out."

"We've gotta kill that damn spider!" Leon blurted out and continued firing wildly at the mutated arachnid only managing to take out chunks of its skin before Jake fired upon the beast with his MP5, sending it staggering backwards before it fell onto its back and finishing it off with an explosive round from his M-203.

"Oh shit, there's another one!" Leon shouted as another mutated spider rounded the corner and charged for the two men. The rookie cop again fired his shotgun wildly, this time managing to strike critical hits that sent the beast to its death. He wasn't finished and ran up to its twitching corpse, blasting it repeatedly until he was out of ammo.

Jake stood back watching as the officer fell back against the wall huffing and puffing muttering curses to himself at a manic pace. "See you don't like spiders, huh?" he asked walking up to the rookie.

"No…I fucking hate them!" Leon gasped trying to look away from the mangled remains of the dead spider. "I got bitten by one when I was a kid and nearly died from it!"

Jake looked down to the mangled spider and shrugged, "You're right, that's one ugly piece of shit, but you don't see me pissing my pants over it," he chuckled with a playful punch to the cop's shoulder.

"Very funny, I doubt you'd be joking around about it if you were allergic to them too," Leon shot back as he made his way up the stairs.

The career criminal shook his head making his way into a dingy hallway where they found Ada Wong waiting outside a cesspool room almost like she had been expecting the two.

"At last you finally decide to show up," she smirked with her gun tapping against her hip.

"Ada, I'm sorry I didn't get to introduce myself earlier. My name is Leon Kennedy and I'm assuming judging from back in the garage that you already know Jake. I'm a cop with the R.P.D. and it is my responsibility to protect both of you so you can't just run off like that," the officer firmly explained as if he was correcting a small child.

"I'm terribly sorry, please forgive me," she spoke in a practiced tone that sounded a little too odd to the career criminal and he watched as they approached a dead end where the sliding door had been lowered and an opened ventilation duct stood above them.

"You think we can get upstairs through this shaft? Give me a boost, I'll go and check." The woman looked to both men and Leon nodded to her getting down on all fours. Jake got behind her and helped her onto the cop's back and stood behind to catch her if anything went wrong as the cop rose to his feet pushing her up.

The career criminal stood silently next to the cop and listened for the sound of a door slamming shut. He turned to find Leon standing there quietly and spoke, "You saw how she just appeared there like that, doesn't that seem suspicious to you?"

"Kind of," the cop replied rubbing the back of his neck, "There was that lid and then those giant spiders," he winced at the mention of the mutated arachnids before continuing, "Wonder how she could've gotten down here so fast?"

"That's what I was thinking. It's awful funny how she was standing outside that cesspool room and her reaction when we both got here. It was almost like she was expecting us and needed something else besides searching for what's on the other side of that sliding door." The career criminal raised his MP5 and made his way towards the door, "I don't know about you, but I've got an odd feeling about what could have gone on in there. I'm going to check it out."

The two men entered what looked like an ordinary septic treatment facility where waste disposal took place and everything seemed normal except for the door at the back of the room.

"That's odd," Leon said as he went up to examine panel next to the back door, "It looks like a chessboard."

Jake went up to the panel to examine it for himself and he noticed the black and white squares that looked like plugs stuck into them. Just the mention of a chessboard made him think of that obscure line from the note he found hiding out in the apartment:

_"__You'll get there much faster if you play the board right, checkmate."_

"Chess pieces…" he muttered aloud, "It's supposed to be a chessboard and maybe the key to opening it is something resembling a chess piece."

"Could this mean something then?" Leon reached into his pocket and produced a white Bishop Chess piece with a tip meant to be plugged in. "I found this behind some plate after I completed this weird puzzle in the library, maybe that's what this piece is for." He slid the piece into place and sure enough the black space next to it lit up.

"There's still three of those spaces left, that means there are three more littered somewhere around the station. Whatever is going on, we'll have to find the others. That means we'll probably have to split up," Jake explained.

"Right, but first we should probably stop by the armory and stock up on ammo before we decide to split up again," Leon added making his way back to the door.

"Yeah, but you said you couldn't find the keycard anywhere else and the only place you haven't searched is the morgue," Jake called out, stopping the rookie dead in his tracks.

"Damn…" the cop shuddered, "a morgue is the absolute last place I want to be after seeing nothing but dead bodies lying everywhere else."

"I hear you man," Jake said placing a hand on his shoulder, "but we don't have any other choice. It's that or run out of ammo and without extra ammo; we won't be living to see another sunrise."

"Fine, but we have to make it quick," Leon said opening the door and stopping at the foot of the ventilation duct, "First we need to wait for Ada and see if she found anything of use." He reclined against the nearby wall while Jake lay back against the opposite and the two waited for several uneventful minutes before they heard the slamming of a door from the other side.

"Jake! Leon!" Ada called out from the other side.

"Ada! Did you find anything?" Leon shouted looking back to Jake and then the opened vent.

"Hold on, I found something that might help you get around more easily," she called out and a small key flung through the vent landed at the rookie officer's feet. Like the key given to him by Sherry and the other he had found in the west wing office, this one had the shaped end of a playing card symbol, in this case a green club. "Heads up, I found something else too!" she shouted and tossed a green case of shotgun shells through the vent.

"Okay thanks, now we have to find another way for you to get back here…" Leon called out, but was cut off by the woman again.

"No, that shaft is too high up! I'll have to find another way!" she shouted and was followed shortly by the door slamming shut again.

"Ada!" Leon called out and angrily kicked at the sliding door, "Damn, she ran off again!"

"We'll have to worry about her later. Right now, let's get to the autopsy room so we can find that keycard!" Jake spoke turning his back and making his way back through the sewers.

The two men made an uninterrupted return to the basement corridor where they now stood outside the foreboding autopsy room. Jake held the club key in front of him and looked over to Leon, who only nodded uneasily to him. "I'll look for the cardkey, you stand guard."

"Right!" Leon replied. The career criminal could sense the uneasiness within the man and saw that he was struggling to hold himself together, which could be a potential danger to both himself and the criminal; it would only be safer to send the levelheaded criminal in first.

Slowly turning the key, the career criminal pushed the double doors open ignoring the stench of embalming fluids and entered the dimly-lit morgue with flashlight attachment shining, immediately catching sight of a body lying facedown on the ground. Upon closer inspection there were four more bodies lying on the ground and one lying on a stretcher ready to be examined, like there had already been a battle in the room.

Jake stared at the bodies closely and then nodded back to Leon before making his way around the stretchers careful not to touch the bodies and then reached a solitary white cabinet. Opening the doors, the criminal was met with numerous types of embalming fluids and tools moving them around hoping to find something of use when a bone-jarring clang shook both men and forced the young criminal to bump his head on the upper shelf.

Whirling around with gun trained, he looked down to find one of the storage drawer covers lying on the ground. He sighed with relief and searched through the lower drawers before finding a red and white keycard.

"Leon, I found –"

Before the career criminal could reveal his discovery to the rookie officer, the moans of the dead filled the air and he turned to find the zombies lying on the floor slowly rising back to their feet and an extra who came falling out of an opened drawer just behind him, cornering him near the cabinet.

The booms of Leon's shotgun sounded right away and he quickly dropped one of the viral carriers with a point blank shotgun blast and nailed a second in the chest before scoring another shot that obliterated its rotting skull.

"I should have known," Jake thought to himself as he made quick work of the zombie that stumbled out of the drawer and then blasted the zombie behind it backwards into the wall. Looking over he spotted the corpse still lying on the table. It didn't appear to be harmless, but he added a bullet to its skull for safe measures. Another shotgun blast from the officer and the last zombie fell over dead.

"You were right," Jake grunted, "a morgue is definitely NOT the kind of place to be in this situation." He then walked over to the rookie officer and offered him the keycard he found in the cabinet, "The key to the armory, just what we were looking for. My intuition was right."

"Good, now let's get the hell out of here!" Leon said taking one last look at the corpses before bolting out the door. Scanning the area for any visible threats the two made their way to the station's armory which was only a few feet away and the officer eagerly slid the keycard into the card reader, the accompanying beep bringing a satisfied grin to his youthful features.

Inside the armory had mostly been cleared out, but the survivors had managed to find five boxes of 9x19 parabellum rounds lying around. Jake was doing pretty well on his Beretta ammo and only took one box while Leon took two, the other two would be left out for Claire if she happened across the room. There was also a case of shotgun shells left behind he had taken and there were several batches of bow gun bolts that would be left behind had Claire decided to reclaim her bow gun and needed the ammo.

At the back of the room were several tall lockers which held nothing until they opened the third locker. Inside were a MAC 11 submachine gun and a side pack that would have allowed them to carry more items. Jake was doing pretty well on ammo and had a side pack of his own so it was decided Leon would take the MAC 11. The officer's clothing compartments and utility belt offered him plenty of carrying room so he decided he would leave the side pack behind for Claire in case she were to happen across the armory.

"Alright, we should probably split up now and look for those three remaining pieces," Jake suggested as he prepared to exit the room.

"Right, you can search the east wing and I'll search the west wing," the officer ordered checking over his newly acquired submachine gun, "We'll cover more ground and if we're lucky, we'll either happen across Claire, Sherry or any other survivors who might still be trapped inside. That door might be our way out of here and we'll need to bring whoever we can along for the ride."

"Okay, I'll radio you the second I find anything," Jake nodded and made his way back into the dark corridor.

Jake Cavanaugh had been given yet another side objective in his primary mission of eliminating William Birkin, for once a distraction that had some relevance as it meant access to the possible sewer laboratory Sebastian mentioned in his diary and one step closer to his target. Three chess pieces needed to be found, a seemingly daunting task in a building the size of the R.P.D., but the career criminal himself was an expert tracker and hoped to have the task completed in no time.

The words though of that venomous reporter had echoed impending doom, about how a trip through the sewers would not be easy. The presence of mutated spiders in that sewer pathway echoed an impending doom. The zombies springing to life in the morgue echoed an impending doom. He knew the dying was far from over and he could sense an impending doom for the other survivors, that one of them would probably not make it out of here alive.


	31. Chapter 26: A Royal Pain

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Chapter 26: A Royal Pain

The halls were now eerily quiet as Jake reentered the first floor never lowering his MP5 as he swept through the area like a Marine conducting a routine patrol. He was well aware of being near the site of his previous battle with "Mr. X" and wanted to remain on guard in case the behemoth was still in the area.

Approaching the boarded-up hallway containing the office where he had first encountered the B.O.W., Jake recalled how he had never had the chance to investigate the interrogation room as he had been distracted by the gunshots and now saw this as an opportunity thinking he could find something he had not seen before.

Slowly easing the dented door open, the career criminal found himself in a plain white room with a table, chairs and two-way mirror on the side wall, nearly identical to every other one he had ever visited with the numerous police stations he had been inside throughout his short life, always being grilled over the numerous crimes he had committed in his wake. Very rarely did any of the sessions end without violence as overzealous officers would beat him down trying to get what information he knew, or the officer would say something to set him off and he would leap across the table attempting to strangle the officer in a fit of rage. No matter what they tried, they could never make him break, perhaps a trait bred into the Cavanaugh bloodline.

Now he entered a room devoid of all life with a rack in a back corner and on it rested another one of those chess pieces probably used to open that special lock, this one in the shape of a Rook.

The criminal smiled briefly as he walked over to the shelf and examined the piece briefly before sticking it into his side pack and then looked over to the table to find another first-aid spray resting plainly on the table, another welcome sight in this nightmare.

Jake walked over and eagerly grabbed the first-aid spray about to slip it into his side pack when the two-way mirror behind him suddenly exploded, forcing him to roll back towards the exit.

Another Licker had thrown itself into the career criminal's path and hissed violently before shooting its tongue into the air, barely striking the man's head before he managed to dodge the attempted strike and responded with a volley of hot lead into the mutant's sinewy surface before striking its head and sending it to an instant death.

Taking another deep breath, the criminal stepped back into the hall and pulled out his radio, "Leon are you there? I've found one of the chess pieces. How are you holding up out there?"

The other end of the line buzzed with static before the rattle of submachine gun fire sounded along with dying moans of the undead. A few seconds later some panting was heard, "Yeah…I'm here…" Leon gasped, "I just had to gun down a few more of our rotting friends. I'm in the west wing right now about to make my way upstairs. I found a golden cog wheel in the press room that I'm gonna try up in the clock tower. I've solved a few other puzzles around this madhouse so I'll see if this clockwork puzzle yields me any additional prizes."

"Alright, I'll meet up with you later. Right now I'm probably going to search the upstairs east wing area since I haven't been there yet. I'll let you know if I find anything." Jake lowered his radio and made his way back through the corpse-ridden hallway past the cafeteria and then back to the main hall, where the second floor mezzanine's emergency ladder had now been lowered. Ascending the ladder quickly, he found more prostrate corpses scattered about dispatched of with clean headshots, victims of Leon and Claire no doubt. The only door leading into the second floor east wing was at the very end of the balcony and he entered with gun drawn.

"Leon has to be lucky he didn't come through here," Jake chuckled to himself as he stepped into a small waiting room where seven charred corpses lay and another still smoldering near the small reception desk. Judging by the looks of them, somebody had taken a grenade launcher to the walking dead and the only other person here with a grenade launcher besides him was Claire. According to her, he also wasn't too far away from the Chief's office meaning he would have another threat to deal with.

He tried to put that thought at the back of his mind as he saw another storage chest in a corner and went to search for anything of use. Digging through, he found another lighter, some rope, a valve handle and some other objects, but no chess plug. Pushing aside some miscellaneous boxes, he did find a blood red jewel about the size of a fist, looking exactly like what that war god statue in the one hall had been holding. What it was doing in here he had no idea, but it must have meant something if it was away from its original place and he decided to take it with him if needed.

The career criminal cried out suddenly as a burnt, skinned hand latched onto his ankle burning him through his pant leg. Jake looked down to find one of the charred zombies lying near him wasn't as dead as he thought it was and drew its blackened teeth closer to his calf.

"Not tonight, not ever bitch," Jake growled shaking his foot away and bringing it down into the cadaver's skull. "Time to go," he told himself as he made his way towards the back door and into a hallway littered with more zombie and Licker corpses.

"Okay, this really isn't funny anymore," he sighed shaking his head. The criminal snuck around the piled up corpses and rounded a corner where he found the wreckage of a police helicopter that had partially been blown away, exposing a narrow hall that led to another door, but for now he decided he would focus on what stood in front of him.

A large storage room was what he found himself in, a room full of dusty old trinkets and antiques covered by soiled linens, lit only by a few small bulbs and the light of the moon shining through the skylight. At the front of the room was a large warrior statue flanked by two smaller virgin busts, one of whom had a red jewel embedded in her chest similar to what he carried in his side pack!

"So that must be what this is for," Jake said pulling the red jewel from his side pack and walking over to the empty statue. Figuring it could be another trap, he looked around cautiously before slipping the jewel into the slot.

A low hum was heard and slowly, the statue's chest began to open revealing a small compartment housing another vital component to the career criminal's quest to escape the station. Hidden where he would have expected to find a priceless treasure, the King Plug rested alone.

"All these puzzles just to hide a simple chess piece, what the fuck? Now I know fat boy Irons was off his rocker in more ways than one. All that trouble for small things like this, this "benefactor" of mine should have just called Indiana Jones," the criminal scoffed as he placed the plug into his side pack and reached for his radio when the skylight shattered above.

"Another one of you, eh?" Jake asked mockingly to the Licker who had crash landed in the room, withdrawing his submachine gun and firing a barrage into the creature's surface severely weakening it. The clicking on the wall from behind halted the criminal from dealing the death blow and he turned to find another Licker had slithered its way into the room.

"Damn!" he grunted sidestepping the beast's shooting tongue attack aimed at his head, but still had his upper left arm grazed while making his move. The blow had been painful and he clinched his teeth to avoid crying out in pain, not wanting the beast to have the satisfaction of making another victim scream.

The pain only fueled Jake's anger as he shifted his gaze quickly back and forth between the two mutants wanting to make them suffer for drawing his blood. Using his good arm he withdrew his Beretta and fired at both creatures simultaneously, killing his already wounded adversary and striking the other once.

The second Licker leapt chaotically through the air as the blood rained from its open wound and shot its tongue once again at the criminal, striking the thin air where his neck had been as the man dove beneath the attack and caught it off guard with a barrage striking it in its exposed brain.

"Shit…" Jake grunted as he now felt the stings of pain from the fresh open wound on his left arm and quickly reached for a can of first-aid spray to treat the abrasion. "Fucking skinless freaks…" he hissed and reached for a fresh ace bandage to wrap around the sore. "Any more of them cross my path…Bang!" he said making a pistol with his thumb and index fingers motioning towards the second Licker who lay dead beneath one of the virgin statues.

Looking back down to his radio, he suddenly remembered his promise to contact Leon and lifted it up to his mouth. "Leon, are you there? I've found the second chess piece! Are you there?"

Almost immediately the officer answered in a frantic tone, "Jake, I can't talk now. I'm in the middle of battling some brute, but I could really use your assistance though! I'm on the third floor balcony in the main hall!"

"Mr. X," the career criminal whispered loudly and ran back into the hall stealing a brief glimpse of the exposed hallway beyond the wreckage. Judging by the secluded location, he assumed it was probably someone's office, most likely that fat pig Irons' given his shady personality he would want to keep himself away from the rest of the force. It bothered Jake that he wouldn't be able to search the room and find out as it could be a chance for him to eliminate that scum once and for all, but he would have to wait. Other things had to be dealt with right now.

After a brief jog, the career criminal found himself back in the main hall and looked up to the third floor balcony, where he found Leon engaged in a desperate struggle with the relentless Mr. X, the giant taking wild swings at the rookie, who tried to fight him off with a newly-acquired Desert Eagle. The younger man kept firing into the walking tank until his weapon clicked empty, a horrified look crossing his features as the brute drew closer while he fished through his belt for a spare clip.

Jake had seen enough and raised his magnum revolver, pumping a few shots into the B.O.W.'s side, temporarily diverting its attention to buy the officer some time while he reloaded. "That's right; don't you remember your old playmate, 'Roid Boy?" The career criminal fired a few more shots at the brute before Leon joined in resuming his assault.

"I'll be right up Leon!" Jake called out running over to the library's double doors and forcing his way through past the corpses littering the floor from the previous assaults and zooming up the stairs to the walkway. A man's life was on the line and although he was not the kind to play hero, he still owed it to the man for helping him out and sought to return the favor. As he neared closer to the door at the end the gunshots grew louder and he readied his own magnum. "Hang tight, I'm almost there!"

With a powerful flying kick, Jake leapt and broke the door off its hinges, rolling to a knee as he entered to find Leon knocking the Tyrant over the railing with a powerful blast to its granite face. The two men looked over and watched as the giant fell to the marble floor below connecting with a groundbreaking thud.

Jake looked down to the behemoth's broken form with an unfeeling gaze. He wasn't too sure if this would even kill the monster, but hoped it would slow it down long enough now that the two of them seemed to be on the verge of escaping the station. "It'll probably take a fucking nuke to drop that freak for good," he thought to himself turning to the officer and presenting him with the two chess pieces he had found, "Here, you might need these."

Leon gladly accepted the pieces and looked over them carefully, "Good, the sooner we can find the last one, the sooner we can get out of here and away from more freaks like that," he spoke, looking over the railing down to the fallen giant below at the end of his sentence. Mr. X still laid motionless on the cracked marble tiling below, but the rookie cop seemed to share his eerie feelings that the giant probably wasn't dead yet and could rise again at any given moment. The cop took one last glance at the pieces before entering the clock tower.

The station's clock tower attested to the age of the building and the wear and tear it had endured throughout the years, suggesting that the building itself was probably more than 140 years old. Grossly discolored rock walls and brittle looking wood suggested that the structure was probably threatening to collapse at any second suffering the aftermath of years of neglect and the rusted out gears above left the criminal skeptical if the golden cogwheel would get them operational or not. Leon was convinced that getting the gears to work was probably the key to solving yet another of this madhouse's demented puzzles, but yet seemed to share his thoughts of this tower's slow deconstruction and looked around uneasily with every creak the floorboards beneath his feet made, fearing that he would fall to his doom with the next.

"Alright, here goes nothing," the cop said removing the cogwheel from his side pouch and kneeling down to insert it in the small space between the two larger gears and pushed a button.

The rusted gears groaned with life and a layer of dust dissipated as they began moving at a sluggish pace. For the first time in years the station's grand clock began ticking and a screeching rattle came from the nearby wall, revealing a narrow shaft with a small compartment holding what they were looking for.

"The last piece!" Leon shouted excitedly running over and snatching the remaining piece from its hiding place, a black Knight Plug. "Now to get the hell out of here," he nodded back to the career criminal and then looked down into the shaft. "There's an open shaft, I wonder where it leads to," he said peering into the abyss.

"Hmm, I don't know," he said standing next to the rookie and looking down, "Hopefully can't be too far," the criminal spoke and without warning, lowered himself down into the shaft.

"Jake wait!"

The rusted shaft filled with dust as the criminal's form descended slowly down it, his muscular form hampering the speed at which he went down the narrow passage. He could only imagine that the drop would probably take him back down to one of the station's lower levels, probably the basement. Looking down and seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, he braced his gloved hands at the sides of the shaft and his feet at the bottom slowing his progress until he was at the end and allowed himself to drop down.

Landing roughly, the criminal tumbled backwards landing on his butt the second his feet touched the unforgiving cement.

"Last time I take that route," Jake grunted rubbing his sore backside and looking around to find himself in the hallway that led to the kennels and cell block area. Looking up to the opened vent, he heard the sound of another body falling down the chute and moved out of the way as Leon hit the ground in a less-than-glamorous fashion.

"Damn," the rookie cop hissed feeling the pain shooting up and down his legs as he swept the dust from his uniform and picked up his Desert Eagle. "Back in familiar territory I see," he said taking note of his surroundings and then looking back to Jake.

"So what do we do now? Get the hell out of here?" Jake asked looking beyond the corner where he knew the kennel entrance stood.

"Bingo!" Leon replied and was about to say something else when he was cut off by a blood-curdling scream.

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRHHHHH!

"That was Ben! Come on!" Leon frantically shouted to the criminal and raced towards the cell block.

Jake followed closely behind knowing that the man was probably dying and wanted to learn any new information he possibly could before the man expired.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ben Bertolucci was literally cornered as he stared in wide-eyed horror at the mockery of nature standing before him with murderous intent.

Oh God he did not want to die, especially not now when he was on the verge of exposing a grand scale cover up that could have taken him to a Pulitzer Prize.

He should have gone with those three survivors, maybe then he would not be caught in this sticky situation he stood trapped in right now.

"Get…get away!" was all that he could scream at the monstrous beast. He knew it was foolish, but it was all he could think of and it did him no good. Before him stood a freakish mass of mutated flesh that was probably incapable of reason and human logic.

The attacker offered no reply to the reporter's desperate pleas and raised its clawed hand to strike.

Author's Note: I know this chapter was short and might be a little disappointing to the hardcore fans of my long drawn out chapters, but keep in mind that this chapter was spur of the moment and was not part of my original plans. This was just a scenario that I had stuck in my head remembering from what I played in Resident Evil 2 with what Leon had to do to reach the sewers and it only seemed reasonable to explain how Jake would enter the sewers. Read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	32. Chapter 27: Dr Birkin I Presume

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Chapter 27: Dr. Birkin I Presume

Ben Bertolucci laid spread eagle against the wall near his now opened cell, having used what little strength he had left to reach into his pocket and open the door. It had taken even more of a Herculean effort for him to rise back into a sitting position as every single movement he made drew closer to his last. His limbs felt as heavy as boulders and his chest, where he experienced most of his blood loss, was as light as a balloon. This was the end as he knew it, he had been blinded by a sense of self-preservation that was non-existent in Raccoon City and he paid for his stupidity.

With a painful twitch he looked down to his chest and stared at the three massive slashes running vertically down his lanky torso. Blood gushed out with every breath he took, yet he tried to remain as calm as possible. A cool numbness ran throughout his body interrupted by the occasional twinge, if he lost his cool the pain would probably flare up and he would scream uncontrollably until he passed out never to wake up again.

He wanted to be at peace before he died and he wanted to be alert long enough to tell the tale of the Umbrella conspiracy before he passed out forever. The cop, the woman and the man in black should have been close enough to hear his scream, maybe they would happen across him and he could give them the mail he had obtained from that Umbrella research facility he had been snooping around just weeks earlier.

The secret file was right behind him, mail to the chief of police from the director of Umbrella's chemical plant, one William Birkin. It told everything he had planned, including the threat of the surviving S.T.A.R.S. members and the revelation that the team's captain Albert Wesker had been in on the whole deal as well, but went rogue for some reason.

One way or another, he had to get this information out to the public.

The screech of metal sounded and he turned to see both the cop and the man in black running towards him, men he had been disrespectful towards earlier and now he absolutely needed them. Bitter irony at its best.

"Ben!" the officer cried and quickly ran up to him kneeling beside the mortally wounded reporter getting close so he could hear his faint speech.

"That…son of a bitch…" the reporter rasped, twitching again in pain. To talk almost ripped away at his chest and his lungs felt like they were on fire. It was excruciating for him, but he had to say it so it could get out. Taking a couple more deep breaths he tried to speak, but all he could get out was an anguished cry.

"Ugh! It burns!"

"Hang in there Ben!" Leon spoke lifting his hand, but was waved away by the dying reporter. "What happened here?"

"A…giant…beast attacked…me…" Ben spoke between the blood gorging in his mouth, but managed to spit out enough to finish his sentence, "Damn…I don't believe this…I almost got the story…"

Reaching through the bars behind him, he pulled out a manila envelope and emptied some white papers to the ground. "You wanted information from me? Here's what I found." He then offered the small stack of papers to the officer.

Leon stood up briefly and studied the papers closely with Jake looking over his shoulder.

"That's a copy of the orders addressed to the chief of police by the director of Umbrella's chemical plant: William Birkin."

"Birkin!" Jake thought to himself looking more intently at the papers.

Leon read the mail closely and with every line he read, the tighter his grip became on the paper and the more intense his gaze became, wanting to rip it to shreds. "I don't fucking believe it!"

"Believe it, that fat prick nearly shot me and tried to have me fed to that giant we were blasting back there," Jake cut in and then looked down to the reporter.

"Ha ha…bitter irony…" Ben chuckled painfully, "The chief of police a co-conspirator…" his chuckle turned into a bloody coughing fit and he looked up one last time, "Get that scum…make him pay!"

"Ben!" the officer shouted again, quickly kneeling down as the reporter fell over dead in a pool of his own blood. Another victim had been claimed by the madness tonight.

The screech of metal was heard from behind again and the two men turned to find Ada Wong standing there. "Leon, Jake, B…!" a look of disbelief instantly crossed the woman's face as she looked down upon the bloodied form of the once reporter. "What happened to him?"

"He looks like he was hacked by something with three very large claws," Jake said nudging the man's corpse onto its back and then examining three large claw marks that ran vertically down the center of his torso, "And it was something much larger than one of those Lickers."

"Whatever it is, I sure as hell don't wanna stick around to find out," Leon said rising back to his feet again and facing his two companions. "There is no reason for us to stick around here any longer, let's gather up what you have and get out of here…" Before he could finish the young woman was already on her way out.

"Ada wait! Where are you going?" Leon shouted to her, but it was too late and she was already back in the hall.

"To the chemical plant, I have a feeling that's where I'll find John!" She disappeared around the corner like a shadow and then no more.

"Wait!" Leon called out again, but it was useless and he sighed with defeat. Looking back to Jake again he pulled out his transceiver, "Claire, come in!"

"I'm here, what is it?" she spoke from the other end.

"Jake and I are getting out of here and are heading to the sewer. Can you meet us there?"

"I've got Sherry with me and we're on our way," she replied and the line went dead.

Lowering his radio, he looked back to Jake who nodded in agreement, "Lead the way, officer."

The two men made their way back into the hall and then entered the kennel where they now made their way safely through the short sewer passage and were once again back in the sewer disposal facility standing outside the cesspool room with weapons ready.

"You ready for this?" Jake asked shifting his gaze back and forth between the cop and the door.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Leon replied, but with a look of uncertainty upon his youthful features that told him he should search the room first.

"Do you think maybe I should check it out first?" the criminal asked blocking the officer's progress.

"I don't know," the officer spoke shaking his head uneasily, "I just get the feeling that something isn't right this time around, with what attacked Ben and everything."

"I hear you on that," Jake nodded and then looked back to the door, "If you want, I'll search the room and make sure nothing is in here and then I'll come back and get you."

"But-" Leon was silenced by the man raising his hand.

"I know what I'm doing. Remember, I'm no ordinary civilian," Jake nodded and opened the door.

Inside he found the cesspool room pretty much the same way it was before and was about to give Leon the all clear when an alarm went off and red klaxon lights began flashing, turning the room a sickening shade of red.

"What now?"

"Warning!" a cool robotic female voice called out seemingly from all directions, "Biohazardous material has been detected outside of designated safety parameters. Waste disposal facility has now entered lockdown sequence. This sequence will end when the offending materials have been properly disposed of. All personnel must enter the designated safe zones and await orders from the disposal team. Repeat, all personnel must report to the designated safe zones immediately."

The door behind Jake suddenly swung shut and the clicking of an automated locking mechanism followed.

"Biohazardous material my ass," Jake shouted and began pounding away on the door, "Leon! Can you hear me out there?"

Outside the dingy hall the rookie officer stood in was suddenly bathed in a violent red shade as the klaxons spun overhead. "What's going on?" he asked aloud as the door Jake had just gone through suddenly locked behind him and then he turned to find the entrance the two of them had just entered through blocked off by a reinforced steel blast door. The door leading to the small storage room on the side locked too and he looked over to the sliding door to hear another clicking sound and then looked up to see the opened ventilation duct Ada had previously crawled through blocked by a steel plate that would prevent anything from getting in and getting out.

The same cool robotic female voice Jake had just heard sounded from above, warning that biohazardous material had been detected outside the designated safety areas and now the facility was going under lockdown.

"Leon! Can you hear me out there?"

The voice of Jake Smith broke the rookie officer out of his reverie and he looked frantically to the door as he heard the man's fists banging against the surface.

"Yeah, Jake I'm right here!" he shouted back and kicked against the door, but got nothing for results. "Hold on, step away from the door, I'm gonna try something!" he ordered and withdrew his shotgun. Pumping the gun he fired a round of buckshot into the locked door, but only succeeded in leaving a few scratches and dents on its surface. "Damn it, Jake it's not working!"

Jake cursed silently to himself from the other side and pounded away futilely against the locked door that imprisoned him. He had escaped the horrors of the R.P.D. just to find himself caught in another trap, some luck he was having tonight. If this "biohazardous waste" didn't kill him, then he was bound to starve to death in these cramped, rancid quarters.

A loud dripping noise sounded above the blaring alarm and Jake turned to find an unknown substance striking the metal bridge in the center of the room, a mixture of the purplish-black liquid he saw Mr. X "bleed" and a discolored pinkish substance as thin as water.

"Could this be it?" Jake said kneeling over the puddle and then looked up to see the cracks in the ceiling the substance was dripping through, and they were growing gradually as an unseen figure stomped on the ground above him.

"Crap!" the career criminal loudly whispered as he raised his submachine gun and inched himself away from the bridge and back towards the entrance where Leon still pounded away furiously at the door.

"Jake, are you still there? What the hell is going on in there?" he stopped long enough to shout in between his strikes.

"It's some kind of weird substance, like what that Mr. X freak bled back there!" Jake shouted back above the drone of the wailing alarm, "But something else is going on too!" he said looking at the forming cracks on the ceiling.

"What? What is it?" Leon shouted back.

A loud rumble sounded from above and the room began to shake. Dust and debris fell from the ceiling and one of the lighting fixtures came undone, falling into the bottomless pit below.

"Oh shit, can you hear that rumble Jake? What is it?" the rookie officer shouted worriedly.

The loud rumble grew and soon the lights began to flicker on and off, "I think we're about to find out."

An earth-shattering crash rocked the entire foundation and soon a large portion of the ceiling collapsed, knocking Jake from his feet and raining large splintered boulders and thrashed furniture into the small room, most of which fell into the abyss below.

"What the hell?" Jake asked to no one as he reached over for his fallen submachine gun and rose to his knees when he was greeted by the same ear-splitting roar he had first heard back in the cell block area, only now close enough to nearly rip the flesh from his bones and back his brain explode inside of his skull, so powerful not even clamping his hands over his ears as hard as he could was able to save his nerves from being rattled beyond belief.

"That thing that Ben mentioned…" was the first thought to come to Jake's jarred mind as he settled himself into a sitting position and blinked his eyes repeatedly, "…and it must be in the same room as me!"

Heavy, labored footsteps followed by the scraping of claws against metal caught the man's attention and he looked up to the bridge in the middle of the room to find a hideous sight that should not have been physically possible, even in the hell that had become Raccoon City.

Standing before him was a monster that made Mr. X and maybe even Nemesis look like puny little zombies.

The disfigured monstrosity stood over seven feet tall, a majority of its height the result of the warped tissue making up half of its body. The tattered fabric of a white lab coat was draped over the creature's shoulders with the rags that had once been a green dress shirt underneath and also wore dirty, ragged blue jeans and fancy brown dress shoes now scuffed and threatening to split at the soles. It also looked like the mass had either absorbed an ordinary looking blonde-haired man into its shoulder, or the man had been growing out of the mess like it was giving birth. There was no telling where the man ended and the monster began. The rest of the creature was made up of reddish-brown muscle with purple veins snaking their way throughout the maze of disfigured flesh.

The most recognizable feature was its large, elongated right arm, a complete contradiction of its ordinary, human-looking left arm. The limb was as long as the rest of the mutated body, with strange claw-like appendages dragging along the metallic surface of the bridge beneath it. Where its bicep should have been, there was a large red eyeball that glared upon the career criminal, if it could actually see out of that large eyeball or not was unknown.

Jake took a closer look at the creature's face and his mouth soon hung wide open in disbelief.

The short, neatly cropped blonde hair, left blue eye, narrow face, the resemblance to Sherry… The career criminal remembered the face from the photograph included in the manila envelope that had been dropped off on his doorstep, but how could it be? The face was attached to this walking monstrosity that looked like it was not of this world; this creature had the face of his target, the face of…

William Birkin!

"It can't be…" Jake muttered to himself as he stared at the abomination standing before him. This creature had the face of William Birkin, but how? He expected to find a scrawny scientist who would have only been able to put up a minimal defensive effort, one who would have been hidden away in a barricaded office clutching a pistol for dear life, one who would have sent his underlings to do his dirty work for him.

Then he remembered that letter that had been left out for him when he woke up in the apartment, the one that told him his mission was not over with and that Dr. Birkin "wasn't as dead as he thought he was." But could this large walking hunk of discolored flesh have been William Birkin, the very man he was sent to kill?

So many thoughts and uncertainties came to mind, but what was for certain right now was that a large mutated, bloodthirsty freak stood before him and probably saw the man as another tasty morsel it would be anxious to sink its teeth into, ready to chop his head off without second thought.

"Birkin…" Jake whispered to the creature, standing with MP5 trained on the creature's forehead.

"Sh…Sher…Sherry…" the monster growled in an animalistic bass as it stepped closer to Jake and shot out its monstrous right hand, grabbing hold of the nearby safety railing and with a few strained tugs, ripped a section of the railing away and took a few practice swings with its newly-acquired weapon like it was coming up to bat at a baseball game.

"Jake, what's going on in there?" Leon frantically called out again having heard the noises from outside.

The criminal ignored the officer's racket and looked back to the mutated creature before him, who again called out for Sherry in a slightly clearer tone. "This freak must be talking about Sherry Birkin, so this must be the doctor himself," Jake thought. "Knowing him, he probably injected himself with something before he died, but must still retain traces of his human memories. Soon he will think no more."

Jake pulled back the bolt on his MP5 and stared directly at the creature, "Well come on, let's get this over with!"

The career criminal made the first move, peppering the mutated researcher's malformed right shoulder with a barrage of hot lead and tried to take a shot at its human face, but the monstrosity quickly brought its altered arm up to absorb all the shots fired in its direction. The purplish-black substance mixed with that pinkish liquid again rained onto the floor and much like Mr. X, its open wounds quickly sewed themselves shut with the sounds of breaking bones and ripping flesh.

The monstrosity grunted loudly and swung its pipe at him, forcing the career criminal to duck into a crawling position and open fire on its knees. The mutant's human-looking legs bled normal red blood at first, which was followed closely by the purplish-black blood and the last vestiges of human flesh covering its knees were quickly replaced by the same reddish-brown muscle covering its upper torso, almost as if his attacks were hastening the researcher's mutation.

William Birkin was still quick despite the excess bulk he lugged around and swung his pipe downward, narrowly missing the criminal as he rolled off to the side.

Jake tried to fire upon the mutated researcher again, but the man now raised his pipe even higher and brought it down again, forcing him to once again roll off to the side and leaving an even bigger dent where he connected a second time. Getting closer, the mutant raised its foot into the air and attempted to come down upon him with all its body weight, but the criminal quickly sprung to his knees and rolled backwards to avoid the stomp, the vibration though causing pain in his back as he rolled.

As soon as he rose back to his feet, the researcher drew back and attempted to drive its mutated shoulder into the criminal's chest, the latter barely managing to dodge with a hasty sidestep leaving him visibly winded.

Jake had no time to catch his breath. The mutated Umbrella researcher quickly whirled around and raised its pipe back about to deliver a strike that would surely kill him. Acting on pure instinct, the criminal leapt backwards and as he did, fired an explosive round into the creature's face.

The resulting detonation sent both combatants flying backwards, the mutated researcher only stumbling back a few paces while the career criminal was propelled backwards nearly striking his already sore head against the cold metal floor. The intense heat had prickled his skin and shards of burning metal tore away at the flesh on his left forearm, but he was far from out of the fight and fired what was left of his clip into the mutated researcher.

Most of the ragged strips that had once been Birkin's lab coat were burned away by the blast and most of the flesh on his face had been hideously scorched, its twisted remnants either a beet red or charcoal black. Large sections of his blonde hair had been burnt away too, making him look even more like a corpse. The researcher's one human blue eye watered and blood from a nearby gash mixed with the liquid to create one blood tear streaming down his burnt face.

Jake nearly screamed in pain as he brushed his wounded arm against the nearby wall and nearly collapsed, but managed to regain his footing and fired another explosive round at the mutant. The shell connected with the beast head-on and it roared its displeasure. He could only smile through gritted teeth at causing the monstrosity pain and continued to fire round after round into its wrinkled hide.

Burnt flesh fell to the metal floor as the rounds connected, but William Birkin showed no signs of giving up and continued his relentless pursuit of his attacker. When he was within swinging distance, he took another massive swing in the man's direction, but only succeeded in striking one of the septic tanks and sent dirty water spraying onto the metal bridge.

Jake continued his own counter-offensive, spraying the mutant with a constant stream of hot lead and even managing to strike the large eyeball sticking out of its shoulder. The organ only blinked rapidly and sprayed pinkish liquid, but was not destroyed. However, it seemed to visibly weaken the mutated researcher and he slowed down significantly. A few more shots forced the mutant to limp towards him and take one weak swing that offered no threat to him. Taking another step backward, the career criminal found himself near another electrical box and had an idea. "If it can work with that Mr. X oaf, then it can certainly work with him!"

Reaching into his shoulder holster, the criminal pulled out his S&W M629C magnum revolver and made sure it was fully loaded before taking aim on the approaching mutant. "Come to me," he smirked and fired a powerful round into the researcher's neck, knocking him back considerably farther than he ever did with his MP5 or its grenade launcher attachment. Jake allowed the mutant to take a few steps towards him before he fired another round and repeated the process until he had expended his latest speed loader and quickly loaded another.

"Keep coming!" he shouted to the creature, hoping it was no longer intelligent enough to see past his trap. The more he could anger it, the faster he could lead it into his trap. "That's it," he smiled firing another round into the creature's mutated eye, causing it to nearly drop the pipe it had held so securely throughout the fight. "Wonder if there's any way to rupture that eye? Maybe that could put him down for good," Jake thought as he fired another round at the eye, knocking the mutant backwards again.

Having taken enough punishment, the mutated William Birkin again threw its head back and roared into the air again. By now it was the angriest it had been since its transformation and it began to swing its pipe wildly.

Jake saw the attack coming from a mile away and summoned up his remaining speed and agility to dodge every attack thrown at him, eventually managing to roll past the lumbering giant, but not before taking a backward elbow shot that sent him flying against one of the guard railings and over the edge, leaving him hanging on for dear life.

"Damn it!" Jake grunted trying to hold onto his revolver while maintaining a firm grip with the other hand on the railing. His MP5 laid on the metal floor in front of him, but remained too far out of reach as the mutated researcher began walking towards him again, banging its pipe against the floor showing it was anxious to bash his skull in.

Jake took another deep breath and fired into the beast's giant red eye and then another knocking it closer to the electrical box. "Just a little closer…" he told himself firing another round and went to fire another when his gun suddenly clicked empty. "Shit!"

For the first time in the fight, Jake Cavanaugh was truly defenseless. He now held an empty gun in one hand while barely maintaining his grip with the other. Now was a time to think fast or else it would be curtains for him. He was in no position to reach for another speed loader or his MP5 and using one of his grenades would be too risky. There was the sword strapped to his back, but he had no idea how useful it would be against the hulking behemoth he was currently engaged in a death match with. Then again, he found himself in a situation where he didn't have much of a choice and anything was better than nothing.

Tossing his empty magnum onto the metal platform, he reached back and removed the long glistening blade from its scabbard and waited for the former researcher to move a little closer to him and with a mighty heave, tossed the sword.

The blade caught the beast in carapace of its throat, going through much easier than he thought it would, and it could only gurgle loudly as the blood gushed out of its wound like a demented waterfall. Shaking its upper torso, the giant managed to loosen the blade and began shrieking its rage, spinning like a whirlwind. It picked up speed with every rotation, twirling in a mocking dance that nearly took the criminal's head off in one fell swoop.

His MP5 laying in front of him, Jake scooped it up and cautiously pulled himself onto the bridge avoiding the monster's flailing attacks. By now the mutated researcher had managed to extract the sword from its throat and tossed it aside, letting out a roar of pure animalistic fury. Not knowing how much he had in this clip, on blind faith the career criminal fired another barrage into the mutant's lower back.

Birkin whirled around only to be met with another explosive shell to his face. The force of the blast knocked him backwards and soon another shell found its way into his mutated shoulder, knocking him from his feet with pipe extended.

A loud clank soon followed and the crackle of electricity sounded as the pipe penetrated the electrical box Jake had been trying to knock him into. Bolts of electricity flowed through the giant's misshapen body using the pipe as a conductor and it screeched and convulsed in pain until its entire body was smoking. A few frenzied seconds later, a loud boom followed and the mutant formerly known as William Birkin stumbled back a few steps before tripping over the security railing and falling into the bottomless pit below.

After a few tense seconds, the alarm went dead now that the biohazardous waste left by the mutated researcher had been "properly" disposed of. The door behind Jake clicked and Leon came barreling into the room with shotgun raised ready to fight.

"What happened in here?" Leon asked out of breath taking note of the trashed room, most of his strength drained by his effort to enter the then-locked room. "It looks like you had some kind of party in here without me."

"You could say that," Jake replied looking down into the dark area where the monster had fallen. "I got attacked by some large freak of nature. Bastard had a huge fucking arm and some eye growing out of its shoulder. Part of it actually looked human too, almost like the man was growing out of it." The career criminal looked down to his MP5 and then picked up his fallen magnum revolver, "Thank some unseen force I had enough ammo to put it out of its misery," and then he looked over to the fried electrical box he had knocked it into, "and it wasn't as smart as it thought it was."

"Good to see you're still among the living," Leon spoke taking note of the open wound on his companion's arm. "You're hurt!" The cop reached into his utility belt and pulled out an ace bandage, "Here, take it!"

Jake looked down to his left forearm, suddenly remembering the open shrapnel wound he had sustained from the explosive shell he had fired into the mutant's face while still a little too close to his attacker. "Right!" he replied and pulled out his first-aid spray, treating the wound before applying the bandage.

Leon searched his pockets again and pulled out the three chess plugs and approached the back door where one of their counterparts had already been placed and had one of the black squares glowing red. "Let's just hope this works," he said and one by one proceeded to slide the plugs into their designated slots.

An electronic chime followed and the sound of hydraulics being released indicated the door was now open. The two men looked to each other and raised their weapons.

"I think maybe we'd better go in together this time," Jake nodded with MP5 raised.

"I think that sounds like a good idea," Leon replied patting his holstered Desert Eagle and loading an extra shell into his shotgun.

For now, Jake Cavanaugh had seemingly triumphed over his inhuman adversary, but did this mean that the man was truly dead and the reward money was his? After seeing Mr. X in action and how the brute had relentlessly stalked him back in the station he couldn't be too sure.

Only time would tell as the two men stepped through the mechanical door and continued on with their journey.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

William Birkin had once been a man, a researcher who worked for Umbrella, Inc. and seemed like your normal everyday mild-mannered family man with his doting wife Annette and loving daughter Sherry, a seemingly typical existence to an outsider in the sleepy former mountain resort community that was Raccoon City.

Nobody would ever suspect him of creating such chaos on the scale of the Holocaust, but like the company he worked for, he was a master of putting on a pretty face for the public.

William Birkin the Umbrella researcher was a madman driven by the pursuit of power and his dreams of creating the "ultimate scientific masterpiece."

To achieve his dreams, he had used a tool known as the God Virus, or G-Virus for short, a bio-weapon that was supposed to grant those exposed godlike powers, as well as immortality and freedom from all known diseases. In truth, the virus turned its victims into twisted monstrosities of unspeakable destruction driven only by their primordial urges to kill and eat.

Dr. Birkin had seen much of this firsthand as he personally conducted most of the experiments himself, turning ordinary people and animals captured by the company, and even plants into guinea pigs for his insane experiments, showing little or no remorse for his actions. Doing so would have hampered his efforts and he would never earn his position on the board of directors. To him, it was all in the name of science.

Now here he lay in the raw sewage of his beloved hometown, a victim of his own creation.

Those paranoid bastards from the company's Inner Circle had feared the doctor was becoming too independent for his own good and had found out about his precious G-Virus thanks to some spy work from that ill-tempered slob Brian Irons. Naturally, they feared he would try to take his creation and defect to one of their rival companies, or that he would simply keep the virus for himself and sell it to the highest bidder.

It would have been too much of a danger to their well-being if the maverick scientist had been allowed to go undisturbed and thus he needed to be dealt with. Plus, they saw it as an opportunity to take his G-Virus, the very experiment he tried to keep under wraps without their approval, and take all the credit for its development.

A platoon of heavily-armed Umbrella Special Services operatives infiltrated the secret research facility and easily disposed of the rogue employee and then managed to retrieve samples of the T and G-Viruses as well as a prototype antidote before making their escape.

Unknown to the soldiers, William had survived the attack and with his dying breath, injected his own prized creation into his body.

The results had been horrendous, transforming the once human researcher into a walking killing machine driven by the same primeval urges in his test subjects. He was William Birkin no more, he had become a Tyrant.

Every waking second he endured endless physical torment, constantly mutating as a result of the virus coursing through his veins. The longer he existed, the less human he became. His rational thought process deteriorated with every step and his newfound animal instincts took over, yet still he retained some of his former memories, particularly his most recent which had been those of the people he had either killed or infected.

First, there were the U.S.S. soldiers who had attacked him in his laboratory. He had stalked them through the sewers and had minced every single one of them with his enormous claws. Their dying screams echoed in his tortured mind and the scent of their blood still lingered on his claws, an almost intoxicating odor to the beast.

Next there was Monica Lewis, a young researcher who had always been a troublemaker towards him. She was an aggressive employee determined to make her mark in Umbrella by any means necessary, even if she would have to usurp her former supervisor's power. The devilish harlot had even tried to seduce him on more than one occasion, hoping to gather the needed materials to blackmail him and ruin his standing within the company. He had given her exactly what she deserved when she tried to escape from the facility with one of his prototype G samples. Right now she was probably still wandering around somewhere with one of his "children" growing inside of her, ready to burst at any minute.

Then there was that long-haired man who had been in the prison cell. Whoever he was, he stood in the former researcher's way and was dealt a savage blow from his claws.

Lastly, there was that fat pig Irons. The opportunistic bastard sold him out and if it weren't for him, that hit squad would have never been sent after him in the first place. It was a joyous sight to watch him cower and hear his screams for mercy like the pathetic slug he truly was. He too was impregnated and his "offspring" had already sprung from the fat man's chest, where it had gone was a mystery. All that mattered was that traitor was dead.

Searing agony assaulted every tendon of the former researcher's mutated body as the beast struggled into a sitting position and then it knew it had sustained serious damage. Large portions of the Tyrant's leathery hide had been burnt to a crisp, hindering the process at which its bullet wounds would sew up. The wound in its throat particularly was a cause of discomfort and the blood continued gushing from the opened crevice. It created even more pain as the wounds began to seal themselves shut and the monster let out another ear-piercing shriek as the painful wound on its throat began to repair itself.

The excruciating pain made the savage beast think of the mysterious human who had inflicted these injuries upon it, a man who reeked of death and violence. The anger fueled its infinite blood thirst and it drove its mutated fist through the wall on its right. Grunting, it wrenched its arm free and looked down as the limb began to tremble.

It was changing again and when the creature's mutation grew, so did its fury and its insatiable hunger.

Groaning in pain, the mutated researcher was unable to move as his head was pushed further down into his body, almost being absorbed by the mass of flesh the rest of his torso had become and in the end, was stuck in its chest almost like a strange decoration. Simultaneously, his left arm began to grow too, looking like a burnt limb as it became discolored and its legs grew, ripping his jeans and obliterating his dress shoes as his feet expanded with them. The stump where the monster's head had once been began to vibrate and bubble and with the sickening tear of flesh and bone a new "head" sprouted from the mess, its unblinking red eyes glowing like fireflies in the nocturnal sky. Looking downward, the mutant's enlarged right hand began to effervesce and with one last major shred, five two foot long claws sprouted from the beast's right hand, giving it deadly weapons that would be capable of shredding a human being to pieces in one swipe.

William Birkin had taken a further step in his mutation and was now prepared to resume his hunt for fresh meat. However, he still retained one human thought in his mutated mind.

Find his daughter Sherry so she can carry on his legacy.

Being a product of the G-Virus, William now had the ability to implant embryos into other life forms; a trait Sherry would be likely to inherit being his daughter. Individuals with non-related genetic coding would be likely to reject the embryo, thus being the case with Chief Irons and Monica.

She was close by, he could sense her essence. He would find her and she would carry on his legacy whether she liked it or not. His life's work would not die with him.

Hearing the groans of the dead before him, the former researcher pressed forth and drove his clawed hand through the nearest wall, splitting it open like it was nothing. Another group of zombies had congregated in the tunnel and charged dumbly towards the large mutant thinking he was another treat, unable to comprehend the danger they were in.

Drawing its clawed arm back, the Tyrant launched itself forth and with a mighty swipe took out half of the group pursuing it, leaving a few disemboweled upper torsos crawling after him, which he later snuffed out by stomping on their heads. A few more zombies remained, all dispatched with quick slashes that left most of them decapitated or too far damaged to be a threat. In the end, one zombie remained and was impaled by the mutant's mighty claw, which then raised it into the air before splitting the hapless cadaver in two.

William Birkin moved through the grimy sewers with a purpose, driven by the last human thought he ever experienced:

To keep the G-Virus alive.

Author's Note: Well there you have it folks, what you have all been dying for since the very first chapter. Jake has finally had his first ever encounter with William Birkin, but unfortunately it wasn't what he thought it was going to be. Rest assured this will not be his final confrontation with the researcher turned Tyrant, there is still more to come. Until then, read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	33. Chapter 28: Doorway to Hell

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Chapter 28: Doorway to Hell

"Everything looks clear so far," Leon reported from the walkway and slowly began his descent.

The special door led to the two men into an open passage blocked off by machinery that otherwise appeared empty. A few small herbs grew in some flower pots in the sewage passage of all places, truly a miracle they were able to survive without adequate lighting. Jake remembered David scooping up some herbs in the main hall claiming that Samantha would be able to use them to treat injuries with. Both of these herbs were blue, which he overheard were able to treat most kinds of poisons.

He wasn't sure what that substance was those mutated spiders emitted, but the career criminal was sure that it was probably poisonous and decided they might be of use. Jake brushed past the rookie officer and snatched both herbs up, taking one for himself and offering one to Leon. Every little thing mattered for survival in Raccoon City; even the smallest bullet could mean the difference between life and death.

"Those things should treat poison. After encountering those spiders on steroids back there, I'd say its best we have one on us at all times from now on," Jake explained and then proceeded to break the stalk and pour its powdery contents onto a small piece of paper before folding it up and placing it carefully in his side pack.

"Yeah, I know. You're not the only one who had to take Earth Sciences back in high school," Leon replied carefully pouring the herb's contents onto his own piece of paper.

"So do you think these tunnels lead anywhere important?" Leon asked looking to a side alcove where a door stood at the end.

Jake knew the young officer was a rookie who came from outside of Raccoon City and obviously had no knowledge of the city's sewer system, but he did remember what he read in Sebastian's diary and surmised that they were near the secret research facility he had mentioned.

"I'm just as clueless as you, but we probably don't have much choice right now," the criminal spoke, motioning towards the door at the end of the alcove.

A slight crumble was heard and tiny pebbles rained down from above. The two survivors looked up to see more cracks forming in the ceiling above them.

"Crap, could that be your friend again?" Leon asked pumping his shotgun and pointing towards the ceiling.

"I sure as hell hope not," Jake replied readying his submachine gun.

A large rock fell from the cracks and sound the area collapsed and a slender figure fell through, landing gracefully on the walkway before them despite her less-than-glamorous entrance.

"Ada!" was all Leon shouted to the woman.

Ada Wong stood before the two men dusting herself off, her red cocktail dress now sporting a few stains and her black leggings a few snags. She noticed the two men standing before her and smirked confidently.

Leon was not fooled by her womanly charms and quickly admonished her, "What was that all about? Running off like that was reckless and stupid! Those zombies are everywhere, not to mention that thing that got Ben!" the officer growled angrily getting into her face and waving his hand repeatedly.

"I was there Leon, I know," the woman replied somberly and then looked to Jake who still said nothing.

"Look Ada, as an officer, it's my job to look out for you and Jake alike," he spoke, his tone now softening a little, "but we're not going to get through this alive if we don't work together, okay?"

"Alright…we'll do this your way for now," she replied with a girlish wink to both men.

"C'mon let's go, and stay with us this time," Leon ordered making his way down the narrow hall.

Ada looked to Jake, who shared Leon's thoughts, "Come on, let's get out of this rancid shithole," he spoke motioning for the woman to go ahead so he could make sure she wouldn't run off again.

The woman could tell that he was going to keep a close eye on her and nodded meekly, hoping he would eventually back down in due time. For now, she would play the role of the obedient companion, as soon as she could distance herself it would be all over.

The door led to a small office set up like a makeshift boardroom with two folding tables pushed together, a small set of lockers, tables covered with partially consumed food and drink and several control consoles. Leon held a piece of paper in hand reading it silently to himself and then showed it to Ada as they entered, a fax to the sewer manager regarding Umbrella employees making regular use of the facility. "Got some more names down," Leon said folding the fax and sliding it into one of his vest compartments.

Jake immediately searched through the lockers and found a Benelli M3S assault shotgun, first-aid pack capable of holding three health sprays, can of first-aid spray, two cases of shotgun shells and three holsters capable of holding shotguns.

Leon and Jake were both well-armed enough already, therefore the shotgun went to Ada. The criminal also carried two first-aid sprays plus his blue herb and the cop already carried one as well. Ada strapped on the first-aid pack and slid two first-aid spray canisters into the pack and then another that had been found in another set of lockers. Now armed with a shotgun, Ada split the shells evenly with Leon and all three of them took a holster that would enable them to strap their shotguns to their backs. Jake took his just in case, knowing they would probably be bound to find more corpses carrying ammo down in the sewers. Searching the lockers further, the career criminal noticed how easily they seemed to slide to the side and then noticed something hidden behind them.

"Well what do we have here?" he said aloud and pushed the lockers aside with his shoulder. With a few shoves, he revealed a rusted industrial door with the words "STORAGE" written in faded red paint, like the room had been neglected for decades.

"We don't have enough time to search every single inch of this area right now. We need to get through here as fast as we can," Leon spoke up impatiently gesturing towards a nearby lift. Ada shared the cop's impatient glance and walked over by him, silently screaming at him to come on.

"Fine, you two go ahead, I'll check this room out," Jake said sliding the door aside to reveal a ladder leading down. "We're probably near some tunnels anyway, just stick close by and I'll meet up with you soon."

"Are you sure?" Leon asked placing his hand on his hip and staring intently at him.

The career criminal rolled his eyes again, "How many times do I have to tell you I've survived three days in this nightmare so far? If I can make it this far along, then that should tell you that a civilian is capable of caring for their own well-being in a cluster fuck of this magnitude! Christ, look at Claire for Pete's sake! You'd think that would tell you something…" he spoke finishing in a sarcastic groan.

Both of his companions were blown away by the criminal's sudden outburst and looked uneasily to each other not wanting to leave a comrade behind, "Fine, we'll go ahead, but we're not leaving with you!" Leon looked to Ada and motioned with a jerk of his head to follow him. Together the two stepped on the flimsy-looking lift and made their descent.

Jake switched on his flashlight attachment and then lowered himself down into the darkened storage room ready for any challenges that awaited him. He tried to move as quietly as possible, knowing that his hands and feet striking the metal would make noises to attract possible uninvited guests. Straining his ears he listened for any moans, footsteps, clicking or humming noises that could give away possible threats and shined the light downward to see a zombie at the bottom swaying quietly waiting for its next target.

Listening to the silence around him, Jake withdrew his silenced Beretta and fired a single round into the top of the cadaver's cranium, only a small puff sounding as he pulled the trigger. The potential adversary sagged to the ground, the thud of its body attracting more footsteps. Staying where he was, another zombie stumbled into his swath of light kneeling down to snack on its fallen comrade. Firing another silenced round, the new creature fell on top of its expired cohort. No more footsteps sounded so he lowered himself, an icy feeling in his gut knowing there was probably undead lurking in the shadows and waiting for him to pass so they could tear into his throat when he least expected.

Touching his feet to the ground, Jake moved quietly along the floor now equipped with his MP5 and shining his flashlight attachment into every corner making sure there was nothing else waiting for him. Moving silently his light shined against a sparkling object, another lighter. Trailing the beam along the wall, he spotted a red lantern and carefully snuck up to the lighter, snatching it up and igniting the lantern above.

A large portion of the room was now illuminated and the career criminal found himself in a room that had been converted into an emergency shelter. A few blood-splattered sleeping bags had been pulled out and were surrounded by emptied first-aid kits and food wrappers as well as some empty soda cans and wine bottles, like they had been throwing some kind of "end of the world" party or something before they died. Empty ammo cases were scattered around the bloody floor and he found a few pistols that were either damaged or empty. The career criminal had enough ammo as it stood and didn't need another gun at the moment.

Corpses were present as well. Near the sleeping bags rest two more, a male and a female, who had both been too far torn apart to be at risk of reanimating. In a corner was another man dressed like a sewage worker with a bullet in his right temple. In his hand he held an antiquated two shot .22 LR Derringer that looked to be worth a lot of money, but was otherwise useless.

Rounding another corner, Jake jumped back as a bony hand reached out from the darkness attempting to grab him by the collar. Raising his submachine gun he fired a three shot burst into his attacker's rotting face knocking it backwards. From the muzzle flashes illuminating the darkened area, he spotted another zombie staggering about in the darkness and used his light to guide him to its face, sending two bullets through its left eye.

"Hopefully that'll be it," he told himself as he crept through the darkened path and rounded another corner where he found another red lantern and reached up to light it.

Slumped over a desk before him, Jake found another man in a sewage worker's uniform with what looked like a detached tentacle feasting on the back of his head. Nearly gagging in disgust, the criminal quickly shot the creature in the side and it felt to the ground with a pained squeal. Upon closer inspection, the beast had the shape of a worm and its end opened to reveal four giant fangs surrounding a hole lined with smaller inner rows of teeth like a shark. "Disgusting," the criminal hissed and knocked the corpse aside to reveal a complete map of the Raccoon City sewer system.

The criminal quickly scooped the blood-drenched paper up and pointed to a gold star marking where he currently stood and followed a trail to a large area marking the main sewage disposal control room and then an area with the Umbrella symbol on it, marking the tram entrance. "So I'm close," he told himself and folded the map, sliding it into his pocket. He searched the nearby shelves finding another case of shotgun shells, a clip for Leon's Desert Eagle and another speed loader for his magnum revolver, taking all of the items with him.

"Alright, I've found everything I possibly could in here," the criminal said to himself and walked cautiously past the corpses again making sure none of them would rise to attack and climbed the ladder at a much quicker pace this time around.

Making his way back up he heard gunshots from below. "More uninvited guests?" he asked aloud and ran over slamming the lift's call button repeatedly before the red grate-looking pedestal came up to meet him. He quickly pushed the button and made his way downward.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Leon Kennedy lay in the dull gray hallway slowly stirring back into consciousness, barely registering the cool, stinging sensation in his left shoulder, let alone the sticky blood staining his uniform.

The last thing he could remember was being in the hall with Ada, where they spotted a blonde-haired woman in a lab coat. They immediately gave chase and she ran into the middle of a T-intersection, proceeding to open fire upon his companion. In an act he couldn't decide was either heroic or stupid, he dove in front of Ada and then everything went black.

It suddenly registered that he had been shot and he looked down to finally notice the blood covering his uniform, the pain throbbing for his efforts and forcing him to jerk his head back.

"Ada…" he mumbled weakly, remembering his companion. Looking around, the lady in red was nowhere to be found and with his bullet wound he was in no condition to get up and look for her. "Damn…where the hell is she?" he grunted as more pain wracked through his torso. He put his gloved hand over the wound and tried to shut the pain away, but it was no use. The young officer would need to seek urgent medical attention or else he probably wouldn't survive another day.

The mechanical whirr of a lift sounded from his right and he forced his right eye open to see Claire descending towards him.

"Leon!" the young woman called out and as soon as the lift locked into place she bolted towards him and knelt beside him.

"What happened? You're bleeding!" she cried pushing his hand out of the way to get a better look at his wound.

"I ran into this woman who was in trouble. Her name's Ada…" he choked out still in great pain. "Right after that, someone tried to kill me and nearly succeeded too," he said looking down to his wound again. "Ada went after the sniper, but I'm worried about her. You gotta find her before something happens…"

"But you've been shot…" Claire protested, only to be cut off by the officer raising his hand.

"I'll be okay. It's Ada I'm worried about…"

Before anything else could be said, another mechanical whirr sounded from their left. The two looked over to see Jake riding the lift down to meet them.

"Leon! What happened?" he called out as he ran to the two survivors.

"I'm alright. Ada and I were down here when we spotted some blonde-haired lady in a lab coat. We tried chasing after her, but she pulled out a gun and started shooting at us. I took a bullet for her and now she's gone off to find the lady. Somebody has to go look for her; I'm worried for her safety." The cop grunted back some pain, held in place by Claire.

Jake knelt down and inspected the wound further. The bullet looked to be lodged in the officer's left shoulder and didn't look too serious right now, but if left permanently inside could pose a danger to his long-term health and would need to be treated as soon as they made it out.

"Got a bandage?" he asked Claire and reached into his side pack pulling out one of his first-aid sprays and a haemostatic pill he had brought with him on the trip. Grabbing a lock of the rookie's brownish-blonde hair, he tilted the man's head back and dropped the capsule into his opened mouth. "Swallow it down and get ready to grit your teeth," Jake ordered as he shook the canister and proceeded to spray the wound until it coagulated enough to prevent him from bleeding to death.

"Ugh…thanks…" Leon grunted and began breathing a little more steadily. Claire pulled out a sterile bandage next to him and reached over to apply it, gently easing him forward.

"Look, I appreciate the help and everything, but somebody needs to check up on Ada. I'm worried about her and I need to know if she found that woman yet or not." Leon spoke more calmly as the woman began tending to him.

"Alright, I'll go!" Jake standing up, "But first I have some presents for you," and he opened up his side pack, pulling out the case of shotgun shells and clip for Leon's Desert Eagle. "There, those should help you along the way eventually." He then turned his attention to Claire, "How are you holding up?"

Claire held her grenade launcher up, "So far I'm doing pretty well for this bad boy. I've got plenty of acid and napalm rounds in addition to all the explosive shells I've been finding littered around the place. I'm doing pretty good for my Browning too, thank God I've got the same shooting skills as my brother, must run in the Redfield genes," she proudly chimed.

"Uh huh, well I'll be on my way now," Jake said and turned on his heel running down the hall.

"So he's let Ada slip her leash again," the career criminal thought to himself going through the door and stepping into the putrefied air of the sewer. "Mark my words; she'll be the death of him. She'll be the death of him," uttering a phrase through his mind that he had with plenty of his guy friends from the past, "No time to be a player, especially not when you're surrounded by bloodsucking demons."

Beyond the fetid air, Jake listened to the trickling water and blowing fan, accompanied by the light humming noises of the giant spiders him and Leon previously encountered before reaching the sewage disposal plant. "Damn it, I'm a career criminal, not an exterminator," he furrowed his brow and readied his MP5 making sure the attached grenade launcher was loaded as well and he crept towards the opening.

Barely dodging another poisonous mist being fired in his direction, the criminal opened fire on a spider hovering above him. His barrage weakened it enough before firing an explosive round into its hairy surface and blowing it to a million pieces.

"One down," he said to himself stepping down into the knee-deep water and took a left where he found another alcove and went to investigate.

In the narrow alcove, Jake found the carcasses of two individuals dressed in combat gear who looked like they had both been skewered by a gigantic blade, perhaps the work of the mutant he encountered back in the waste disposal facility.

Judging by the build of the bodies, he could tell both victims were male. Both corpses were clad in black and gray urban operations BDU's that almost made them look like ninjas, polymer elbow and knee pads, fingerless black gloves and black steel-toed combat boots. Over their camouflage jackets they wore matte black Level 4 tactical combat vests that held pouches for grenades and other ammo, utility belts stuffed with other important items, and had compartments for tactical equipment. Their heads were covered by military-grade gas masks equipped with thermal goggles giving off a glowing red glare that almost made them look like futuristic shock troopers even in death.

Their uniforms bore no symbols of any kind, obviously so they could not be traced back to their employers, meaning that these troopers could have belonged to anybody, but whom? Were they members of a secret paramilitary unit sent in by the government to contain the outbreak? Could they have been C.I.A. assassins sent in to investigate Umbrella? Maybe they were members of a foreign army sent in to steal the company's research and take it back to their native land? Heck, maybe they were some of Umbrella's own lapdogs sent in to cover up their own company's accident in order to maintain their "company of the people" image.

Whatever the case was, they were dead and the career criminal went to work searching their corpses. He mostly found non-lethal weapons like flash bangs and CS tear gas and a lock pick kit on one, but did manage to find two extra M-68 fragmentation grenades that hadn't been used and clipped them to his belt with the others. Another case of shotgun shells was also found that would be good for Leon and he shook one of the corpses further until a silver medallion fell from one of the corpse's pockets.

"Things just continue to keep popping up from out of nowhere," Jake whispered as he picked the medallion up and examined it closely. The surface contained a Medieval-looking wolf design and then it suddenly hit him. He remembered the last entry from Sebastian's diary, where the researcher talked about the secret entrance to the sky tram being hidden behind a waterfall and how it would require a Golden Eagle medallion and Silver Wolf medallion to bypass the trap, but he had no idea where the latter was.

"Well here it is!" Jake said aloud staring closely at the medallion again before sliding it into a pocket and then jumping back down into the water and rushing towards the opening, his speed hampered by the knee-deep liquid.

Moving around a corner, the criminal found another mutant spider preparing to spray him with some of its poisonous mist. The criminal quickly raised his MP5 and fired a volley into the arachnid's opened mouth, forcing it to scream wildly while he fired an explosive round into its body and send its greenish blood splashing all over.

"More of it…" Jake muttered as he finally took in the bloodshed that surrounded him, noticing the bullet holes and blood covering the surrounding brick walls. Through the murky water in a corner he spotted another corpse lying on the ground, probably murdered in the same fashion as the two previous victims. There were probably more of the mutant arachnids lurking about and he wouldn't doubt if they had a nest somewhere, giving him flashbacks of one of his all-time favorite sci-fi movies "Aliens."

The resounding boom of a shotgun rang out from beyond the gate he stood in front of. "Another of those masked men?" he asked quietly as he tried to peer through the nearby gate and could only make out the faint outline of a human fighting for his survival against an arachnid overhead.

Charging through the gate, the criminal fired into creature's backside, spraying its misty-looking blood as it turned around to face him. Never relaxing his finger from the trigger, he fired into the beast until his clip ran dry and the creature fell to the water below with a mammoth splash. The spatter alerted another nearby arachnid and it too came charging at the young criminal.

It was then that the survivor made his presence felt, stepping up and blinding the creature with a halogen light attached to his Remington M870 and fired a blast straight into its hideous face, sending it to the same fate as its companion.

"Damn bugs…" the survivor rasped and stumbled towards him. Stepping into the light, he revealed himself to be a young man with short brown hair shaved at the sides and wearing a tattered, blood-splattered police uniform. His skin was as white as a sheet with a sickly blue under his lips and bloodshot hazel eyes. The young officer leapt towards the criminal, his hand catching onto the man's bulletproof vest. "Help…me…" he pleaded in ragged gasps, chest falling up and down at a manic pace.

"Burchill?" Jake asked looking down into his wild eyes. It was Officer Dustin Burchill from back at the station and he looked to have been poisoned. "What happened?"

"Smith…spiders attacked…poisoned…" he blurted out as a foamy froth escaped his lips and he collapsed against the bigger man.

"Don't worry, I've got a blue herb on me," Jake replied leading the officer over to a ledge in front of another set of double doors and sitting him down. Digging through his side pack, he pulled out the blue herb wrapped in a paper and propped the man's head back, pouring the blue powder into his mouth. The officer coughed a few times, but within seconds he breathing gradually slowed.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be with that group making its way through the sewers," Jake asked looking around for any other possible survivors.

"I was…" the officer rasped, still regaining his breath, "We were attacked by some of those mutant spiders. They poisoned some of the civilians and there were too many of them to fight. I got separated as soon as we reached this area. I don't know how far along they are and they're probably scattered all over the place with that incident."

A gunshot rang out from behind the doors, startling both men from their conversation. "I'll go check it out, just wait here and rest!" Jake ordered climbing onto the ledge, only to be held back by the officer grabbing his pant leg.

"Take it!" the officer spoke thrusting the shotgun towards him, "You could use it more than I could right now."

"Okay," Jake replied accepting the shotgun and sliding it into his holster, "Wait here and if anything happens, come inside!"

Readying his submachine gun, Jake crept up to the metal doors and slowly snuck inside; blending in with the shadows beneath the catwalk above him he quietly listened for any movement only to hear the pounding of shoes against metal followed by the click of a gun.

"Don't move," a feminine voice called out, one he had never heard before. "You're the one who was with that cop, if I'm not mistaken. Identify yourself!" the mystery woman demanded to an unseen figure.

"Ada…Ada Wong."

"Ada!" Jake loudly whispered and listened in further now that a familiar face was present.

"Ada Wong? I've heard that name before…Ah you're John's girl, the one who came in from Chicago to assist in the development of the T-Virus back at the old mansion," the woman continued.

"How did you know? Who are you?" Ada shouted at the woman.

"Annette Birkin. My husband is the man responsible for the creation of the T-Virus: William Birkin."

"What?" Ada gasped.

"Birkin!" Jake thought to himself, "His wife is still alive and here in the city!"

"John's dead," Annette flatly replied, no trace of emotion, "He became one of those zombies, my condolences. Although I regret this, you will be joining him shortly. I won't let anyone take the G-Virus away from me."

"G-Virus?" Ada asked perplexed.

"It's capable of creating the ultimate bio-weapon. Its potential is even greater than that of the T-Virus."

"Then that must mean the creature in the police department is…" Ada trailed off.

"Precisely, my husband William, and it's all Umbrella's fault! None of this would have happened if they hadn't tried to steal his research away from him!" Annette growled on the edge of losing her composure.

"Shit…" Jake gasped, mouth hanging open in disbelief. His suspicions were correct, that mutated creature he had battled back in the sewage disposal facility was indeed William Birkin, transformed by his own creation. "Now I know what that punk who knocked me out meant when he said that guy wasn't as dead as I thought he was." He quieted down to allow the researcher to finish her story.

"Exactly one week ago, a group of Umbrella's hired goons infiltrated our facility. Those murdering bastards shot my darling and left him for dead!" she shouted, her tone turning to a mixture of grief and anger, "I found him lying there near death. I told him that I would go get something to treat his wounds and by the time I came back he was gone. The G-Virus, he had been yearning for a human test subject and he…" Annette again trailed off, all the fury and sorrow completely disappearing.

"Are you trying to say that he actually injected the G-Virus into his own body?" Ada asked in stunned terror.

"The G-Virus has the ability to revitalize cellular functions. All the damage done was quickly repaired, but it did much more than that. It mutated him; it robbed him of his humanity! He had to make those bastards suffer for what they did to him!" Annette spoke up, the rage returning to her voice at the mention of her husband's attack. Calming herself down, she spoke in a normal tone, "One by one, he stalked those killers through the sewer and butchered them all, none of them survived."

"So that must explain those corpses I found out there," Jake thought making reference to the skewered bodies in the alcove. They must have been the members of that unit sent after Dr. Birkin.

"Unfortunately an accident happened when William went on his tirade," Annette continued, "You see, one of the soldiers was carrying a case containing samples of the T and G-Viruses, as well as a prototype antidote for the T-Virus. In haste, the impotent fool dropped the case and the contents spilled onto the floor. William was so blinded by his animalistic fury; he crushed some of the T-Virus samples and spilled their contents. Some nearby rats happened across the green liquid and feasted on it, thinking it was just some other refuse for them to dine on."

"So those rats were the carriers of the virus?" Ada asked in the disbelieving tone she had held throughout much of the conversation.

"Precisely, rats have always carried viruses with no harm done to them. They carried the Black Death and now this. Within time, they began biting the sewage workers, who in turn passed the disease on to the rest of the community and eventually, a full-scale outbreak!"

"No! What about the G-Virus?" Ada asked in horror at the sudden realization.

"As a result of his virus-induced mutation, William should have lost any prior memories he had as a human by now. Even worse, every G-Virus bio-weapon, including William, has the ability to implant embryos into other creatures…"

"…And create offspring. No…" Ada finished, "There has to be something that can be done about it, where is the virus?"

"The case contained two samples of the G-Virus, one of which was missing and the other I will never tell!" Annette raised her voice again. The click of a pistol soon followed.

"No! We have to destroy it!" Ada protested. A fierce scream came from Annette and the career criminal listened to the sounds of a heated catfight between the two women above. The fight ended with a POW and Annette Birkin was sent tumbling over the railing, landing right before the career criminal.

"Guess the old lady wasn't as tough as Leon thought," Jake said quietly and nudged the prone woman with his shoe, forcing a pained groan indicating she was still alive. More gunshots sounded from the outside tunnels, "Guess I'll have to deal with you later," the criminal said readying his MP5 and rushing back to the sewer entrance.

Thinking he would find Officer Burchill fighting for his life, instead he found the officer still reclining against the nearest wall catching his breath.

"Burchill, I thought that was you," Jake spoke looking through the nearby gate.

"It's coming from there, there must be another survivor down here!" he shouted and pulled out his sidearm, but was stopped back Jake.

"I'll go," the career criminal spoke and ran through the gate.

The second he stepped into the murky water more of the accursed undead rose from their watery graves to attack him.

Leon pumped his shotgun and fired a round into the rotting skull of the nearest zombie, painting the walls with its brain matter. Before he could catch a breather, another zombie was just inches away from him and its broken finger nails were just inches away from scraping his uniform. The rookie cop quickly brought his foot up and shoved the monster backwards, firing a round of buckshot into its face as it fell backward.

"They gotta be around here somewhere," the cop said to himself thinking of his missing companions as he trudged through the filthy water. Jake had gone off to find Ada and still hadn't returned. He could only hope that the two survivors had found each other and were probably fighting their way out as well.

Entering the concourse, he was greeted by more zombies popping up from the filthy water, the trash covering them almost making them look like clones of the Creature from the Black Lagoon. The booms of his shotgun sounded throughout the tunnels as the rookie cop fired upon the viral carriers, dropping four of them quickly and then struck another with the butt of his gun, hard enough to snap the approaching zombie's neck.

"I'll give it to you freaks in one way, you guys never give up!" Leon huffed before downing another zombie and then drawing his newly customized H&K, now with a new attachment enabling him to fire three-shot bursts, taking down yet another with a burst to its rotting face. There were still several zombies present and more emerging from the darkened corners, how many were there he did not know, but there could have been hundreds of the walking dead down there waiting for him.

The rattle of a submachine gun rang out from behind and most of the incoming zombies were dropped with gory headshots from behind. The hiss of an airborne grenade sounded and a small group of zombies were blown apart.

Turning around, the cop found Jake Smith standing behind him and firing another round directly at him.

Flinching and expecting to feel the pain of another bullet striking him in the chest, instead he was greeted by a dying moan and another splash. Looking over his shoulder, he found another zombie lying face up in the filthy water.

"You missed one," Jake half-smiled at the rookie cop and then ejected his clip to see how much ammo he had left.

"You could have said something you know. I've already taken one bullet and I don't need another," Leon scolded while motioning to the bandage wrapped around his chest.

"We'll worry about that later," Jake nonchalantly replied and walked back through the gate, "I've found one of your surviving co-workers, you two should get acquainted and then we'll find Ada and get the hell out of here." He held the gate open for the young officer, who looked at him uneasily for a few seconds before finally walking through.

Leon greeted Officer Burchill warmly, overjoyed to see that an officer other than him had managed to escape from the station alive and the two spent several minutes getting acquainted before getting up and entering the main sewage control room.

Much to the criminal's shock, something was amiss right away.

"Where is she?" he silently asked himself. Jake looked to the very spot where Annette had landed only to now find she had disappeared, but how? That fall had to have broken a few bones with the angle she landed, at least something that would have had her out cold for hours. Did something come and snatch her up, or was she just driven by psycho power? "Maybe she had some of the G-Virus in her system as well," the criminal thought remembering what he overheard from her conversation with Ada.

"Looks like there's no way to get to the higher level," Leon said examining a nearby hole on a control panel, "We'd need a valve wheel or something to lower the bridge and let us cross."

"What about that door right there?" Dustin asked pointing to a plain looking door with a green light overhead. "Wonder where that leads to?"

The criminal mentally scolded himself for not realizing that door was there and covered the two officers as they entered, remaining on full alert for any signs of Annette Birkin, Ada or any of the monsters.

An empty, yet sinister-looking tunnel was what awaited them and Burchill looked back to Leon, "How are you holding up, kid? Is your bullet wound still bothering you?"

"Still a little, but I think I'll manage," Leon replied with a thumbs up. The older officer raised a hand to stop him.

"Stay here and relax. If anything comes through that doesn't look human, blast it! Jake and I will scout ahead," Burchill spoke nodding back to Jake and then motioning for him to follow. The two men made their way around the corner and approached another blast door and pushed a nearby button to raise the door.

"Phew! It stinks worse than fat boy Irons in here!" was the officer's first response upon opening the door and staring into the dump area where layer upon layer of drenched garbage piled together like two separate islands and at the end was a platform where they spotted a familiar face who seemingly fired into the water.

"Ada!" Jake shouted to the woman, who quickly stopped what she was doing.

"Jake, watch out!"

Looking down, the sullied water suddenly began to bubble and an oblong shadow materialized beneath. What almost sounded like an underwater explosion emanated from the depths.

"What the hell?" Burchill asked scratching his head and kneeling towards the water.

Before the officer could react, a titanic-sized set of jaws rose from the depths and massive incisors clamped around the officer's body, dragging him down into the water. Jake and Ada looked to each other in silent horror before the screaming officer was tossed into the air and caught by the massive jaws again before being swallowed whole.

"As if things couldn't get any weirder…" Emerging from the dump was a gigantic alligator about the size of a battle tank or even bigger at about 50 feet in length. The blood of Officer Burchill stained its teeth and it roared mightily enough to knock both the criminal and the woman from their feet. It was hungry and looking for its next meal.

"Fuck…" Jake cursed and fired a volley into the mutant's snout. Small splotches of infected blood dotted the alligator's hide, but didn't faze it at all and it began to crawl out after the fleeing criminal, who kept firing at it hoping to lure it back towards the entrance, long enough to buy Ada some extra time in her escape.

The world shook around Jake as the creature roared behind him and easily advanced upon him with every step it took and was just inches away from biting into his back as he rounded the corner, where a perplexed Leon stared at the abomination chasing his companion. It was also there that Jake noticed a gas canister attached to the nearby wall and a button over it labeled "CANISTER RELEASE." Diving towards the wall, the criminal threw his hand out and slammed the button down, hoping the creature would probably be stupid enough to think it was a snack.

"Leon, when that thing bites into the canister, shoot it! Just do as I say!" Jake ordered throwing himself behind the rookie cop and fumbling to reload his submachine gun.

The stalwart rookie stood tall trying to disguise his anxiety as he hoped that the creature would be dumb enough to think the canister was food and try eating it. Remembering his days of target practice from the academy, the officer again pulled out his customized VP70 and focused on the cylinder as if a huge bull's-eye had just appeared on it. "Take a deep breath and loosen up before you aim for the center," his training officer always told him and he repeated it to himself over and over again to recapture the more relaxed mood of the training course, which was Disneyland compared to this hellhole.

Like Jake had predicted, the alligator grabbed the canister with its vile teeth and tried to chew on the flammable object, but not even its trashcan-sized teeth could penetrate the canister's surface. With the canister stuck firmly between the gator's teeth, the cop made his move.

Taking a deep breath, the officer pulled the trigger and it struck the canister head-on.

A resounding boom followed that knocked both men backwards and in a bright flash of reddish-orange light, the upper half of the mutated alligator's head was blown to pieces, leaving the rest of its limp smoking carcass taking up the tunnel.

"Damn, I don't think I'll ever eat southern cooking again after this ordeal," Leon coughed rising back into a sitting position. Jake was already next to him slowly rising back to his feet and holding his head to settle his nerves.

"Come on, I saw Ada back where we first met Freakzilla," Jake said brushing carefully past the gator's smoking remains and rushing back to the dump area, where as he predicted Ada still waited for him and Leon.

"My goodness, Leon you're alright!" Ada cried out in joy as the rookie officer stood side-by-side with the career criminal, the bloodied bandage wrapped around his chest and shoulder a testament to the noble sacrifice he had made for her.

"Yeah, thanks to Jake and Claire," the cop smiled and then turned to Jake, "You really saved my life back there man. I owe you one once we get out of this mess."

"I just found; John's dead, he became one of those zombies," the woman reported, sadly looking down to her own reflection in the murky water below.

"What?" Leon gasped. Jake silently bowed his head next to the man.

"Never mind, there's nothing anyone can do about it. Let's just get out of here. The sooner the better," Ada spoke and then leapt into the water and trudged as quickly as she could towards the two men and within seconds they were walking down the hall past the alligator's remains, through the main control room and were back in the main sewer system standing before a waterfall and a weird contraption on the wall near it that had the engravings of an eagle and a wolf beneath these two slots.

"That one wolf engraving looks exactly like the one from this medal," Jake told his companions as he withdrew the Silver Wolf medallion he had found on one of the paramilitary operative's corpses. Taking a deep breath, he gently slid the medal into its designated slot. Nothing happened.

"Hey, I found a medal just like that on the body of the sewer manager in that control room," the woman spoke as she pulled out a gold medallion with an engraving of an eagle on its surface. She slowly slid the gold medal into the empty slot and this time, a loud beep was heard.

Looking to their left, they watched as the waterfall gradually began to dissipate and behind it, a rusted red door stood alone.

"Here goes nothing," Jake said to himself, knowing that he was one step closer to the Umbrella research facility.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Unbeknownst to the survivors, they were being watched from a distance again by the ever resilient monstrosity that was formerly William Birkin, fresh off the heels of battle with an unknown woman who carried the scent of his daughter.

"Sher…" the beast tried to grunt, but the mass of warped flesh surrounding its mouth prevented it from uttering the girl's name. Still, he was able to recognize the scent of his daughter and that young woman he had encountered carried it, as well as the scent of being the one who murdered his offspring.

The scars of battle decorated the former researcher's already mangled hide as large portions of his skin had been blown away by her grenade launcher and only now had they slowly began to regenerate. A constant tremble flowed throughout the mutant's body, indicating that it was getting closer to yet another transformation. Soon the former researcher would become more animalistic; losing what traces of humanity it had left and become something unrecognizable even to its closest relatives.

Thoughts of animalistic rage clouded the pernicious entity's mind and it could only think of the mysterious human it had battled back in the waste disposal plant, the same man who had managed to wound it and seemingly knock it to its death. That was his scent he inhaled, the fragrance of an insolent being who would soon meet death at his massive claws.

Stepping out of the shadows, the beast stomped on the corpse of a Licker who had previously attacked it and moved down the tunnel slashing through anything that stood in its way.

The creature could sense the path the three humans were taking and it would use its remaining human cunning to perform a surprise sneak attack.


	34. Chapter 29: The Demon Reborn

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Chapter 29: The Demon Reborn

With the push of a few buttons, the power of the tram was activated and its engine hummed with life.

"Man, the suits at Umbrella must be swimming in a freaking ocean of hundred dollar bills in order to build something as elaborate as this," Jake whistled staring at the tram before him, which almost looked like a lunchbox that would be capable of holding about ten to fifteen people. "Secret trams, underground research facilities – if you as me, they watch too many damn spy movies."

"My goodness, I can only imagine how many of these facilities they have scattered around the city," Ada spoke looking around the inside of the tram, which was very plain and had no seats.

"Try throughout the world," Leon said tucking the Remington into the holster on his back and then checking his customized VP70 over one more time. "Umbrella has offices all over the globe. They could literally have hundreds of facilities like this set up like this. Maybe this isn't the only one in the city."

Leon made a good point, albeit a very scary one as well. Umbrella, Inc. was the single most powerful organization in not only America, but the entire world as well. The question was how many more hidden research facilities like this they had concealed in mountaintops, below the surface of the earth, or maybe even underwater? Whatever the case was, it sure meant that they probably had tons of T-Virus samples stockpiled around the globe and even more of the kinds of monsters Jake had encountered during his stay in Raccoon City, ticking time bombs waiting to go off at any minute and unleash every seemingly impossible fear in the passage of a few hours. "These arrogant bastards are playing with fire, a kind that will burn more than just themselves if they drop the match."

Jake entered the tram last, closing the doors behind him and his companions and then typing in the command that would take them to the transport facility. Almost immediately the other two survivors sat down and were breathing heavily now they had finally been given some time to relax after countless hours of running and battling the seemingly endless amount of monsters lurking about the city. The career criminal joined them and sunk to a sitting position next to Ada with hands on his knees.

"So, what do you all plan on doing once you get out of this mess?" Leon asked from across them, trying to lighten the conversation.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Jake replied with MP5 resting closely at his side, ready to fight the second they got off the tram.

"Definitely a warm bath and a warm meal," Ada sighed looking down at her dress which had now been ruined from trudging around in the sewer water. "With John dead I figure it might take me a while before I can find someone else. You don't just grow close to someone overnight unfortunately."

"Now that you mention it, I'll definitely be up for getting drunk and getting laid once I'm out of here," Jake smirked, earning him a punch from Ada to his cut arm. Pain shot through his wounded limb, but he held back a cry and shot a filthy look of his own back to the woman.

"Thinking with your dick already, are you?" the woman hissed towards him, narrowing her almond-colored eyes at him. "Typical red-blooded American male I see. Always thinking about sex at the most inopportune of times, at least John was a well-cultured gentleman compared to you."

"Lighten up lady, sheesh," Jake shot back unafraid of the strike that would probably follow.

"Well, don't either of you have any family outside?" Leon asked trying to distract them from a possible altercation. "I know my parents and little sister will be dying to hear from me once we make it out of here."

The mention of family stopped the career criminal and he sat back powerless to say anything. Family was something the man no longer had; his closest relatives were dead, institutionalized or missing and he had heard nothing from them since the "incident" six years ago.

"I really need to go back and visit Mom's grave one of these days," he thought to himself slightly bowing his head in remembrance of his mother, the only parent he truly cared about. His father was an abusive prick and he could burn in Hell for all the criminal cared. Only now he would have to find a way to sneak back into his town so he could visit the graves of loved ones, knowing he was a wanted man around his community for what he did.

"Do you think you will be able to visit your family when this is over?" Ada asked inquisitively towards the rookie officer. "Umbrella has connections all over the world; don't you think they'll probably be in danger if the company knows you survived?"

Leon stared down to his customized VP70, "If any of those bastards go near my family I swear I will kill every single one of them or die trying if I have to."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The former William Birkin watched the moving tram from the rafters above ready to strike. Thanks to his enhanced senses, he could tell the three humans from the sewers were inside, including the man he had battled before.

It was payback time and the creature would have the human's blood.

Using its enhanced strength, the mutant leapt high into the air and almost flew towards the moving tram.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Ahhhh!" Jake cried as the tram rocked violently and he was thrown forward against the door, the surface rattling under his muscular frame. Both Leon and Ada were knocked to the floor and thrown about as something large landed on the tram.

"What was that?" Leon cried out crawling over and grabbing his shotgun. Both Ada and Jake knelt down to the floor knowing that something had landed on top of them judging by the indents in steel and lay close with their weapons ready.

A large hole was opened in the tram's exterior as a large claw drove through the surface and swiped wildly for any inhabitants within.

"Fuck!" Jake shouted falling backward and raising his MP5. The claw ended just inches above his chest and clicked as it attempted to swipe at him, barely scratching the nylon surface of his flak vest. When the claw raised a little, the criminal let loose a barrage on the mutated arm, raining more infected blood down upon him. Leon and Ada joined in firing upon the arm before finally forcing it to withdraw.

"Stay low!" Jake shouted and placed a hand on the cop's shoulder to keep him down. Leon may have been a police officer, but he was still a rookie reporting for his first day when the madness began and did not possess even half the amount of combat experience the career criminal had, thus he had no gripes about taking orders from a "civilian." The man had proven that he knew what he was doing and he was beginning to show more confidence in his abilities and maybe even more that he would be able to help him get out alive.

Another loud crash sounded as the claw came ripping through the tram's metallic exterior and found itself flailing just inches above the two men. Ada quickly returned fire, expending the rest of her clip before switching over to her shotgun, but by then Leon and Jake joined in and scared the claw away again.

"How much damage to we have to dish out against this freak?" Ada asked crouched with shotgun pointing towards the ceiling.

"Too damn much," Leon retorted now drawing his own shotgun. Jake sat silently on one knee trying to listen for the creature's movement above the groaning and whistling of machinery. They had to get the attacking beast off soon or else it could possibly bring the tram down with all of them in it.

The monstrous claw came ripping through the tram above where Ada stood, knocking her from her feet, but not before she managed to fire a round into the elongated limb and spray a fountain of blood into onto the floor. Jake quickly peppered the clawed arm with some hot metal, leaving it still enough for Leon to step up and fire a point blank blast into the appendage and break off one of its lengthy claws.

A terrible cry of pain resounded throughout tram tunnel and the three survivors watched as purplish-black blood drenched the windows, leaving them unable to see outside. The three survivors laid close to the floor with weapons drawn anticipating another attack and waiting for a few tense minutes until the hiss of hydraulics indicated that they had reached their stop and automatically the doors slid open.

"Do you think it's gone?" Ada asked pointing her shotgun towards the entrance.

"I don't know, but we'll have to get moving if the creep is still nearby," Leon replied slowly rising to his feet, but keeping his shoulders hunched in case the monster decided to poke its claw through again.

Jake remained silent, listening for any additional sounds from the creature, who by now had left the tram alone, but could still be nearby. "I'll go," he spoke up and crouch walked out of the tram with gun ready and flashlight attachment blazing in the darkness.

His light immediately caught sight of a large green mounted flare gun and then caught glimpse of a flashing object and bent down to pick it up, revealing it as a weapons box key for "Umbrella Research Outpost A-1."

"We are close by after all," Jake said to himself, "Could explain why Birkin is so close right now."

"Find anything?" Leon asked stepping out with shotgun drawn and looking around carefully for any possible attackers. Jake raised the key to him, "We must be close to the research facility," he said offering the officer the key.

"Great, maybe we can find incriminating evidence to help put those deceptive bastards away," Ada said entering the platform and making her way towards a steel door she saw at the end.

"Are you sure you want to go through after half the shit you've seen at the station?" Leon asked, remembering the woman's horrified reaction when she first encountered a Licker.

"I'll be fine," she replied, "It's almost as if you become desensitized to those freaks once you've been around them long enough."

"She's got a point you know," Jake whispered to Leon and he truly felt the woman did. He will admit he was slightly fazed when seeing zombies for the first time, along with Lickers, Hunters, Nemesis and other creatures that should not exist, but now he only smirks knowing their weak points and knowing they will soon meet death on the business end of one of his many bullets. An army of abominations that would faze a normal person had become commonplace in Raccoon City and he had slowly become desensitized to all the violence and nightmarish creations around him, not much of a far cry from his battles on the streets with rival gangs.

Leon led the way to the door and looked back to his two companions before gently pushing the door open and creeping inside.

A darkened hallway awaited the survivors, looking empty at first, but a faint moan from nearby brought them to a halt and Jake took the front shining his light down the sparsely-lit hall where a zombie in casual street clothes stumbled into view. With a pull of his trigger, the zombie fell over dead a second later. Several more sets of moans soon followed, "I guess our rotting friend didn't come alone," he whispered back to his companions and began cautiously moving forth.

Reaching the end of the T-intersection, two zombies came from both sides, leaving Leon and Ada to deal with the zombies on the left while Jake took the ones on the right. With seconds the zombies' heads were ripped apart by 9mm. rounds and they lay sprawled about in pools of their own blood.

"Search the hall down there," Leon ordered and motioned for Ada to follow him, "We'll take this route and see if we can find anything of interest."

Jake nodded quietly and shouldered the MP5, withdrawing his silenced Beretta in case any other zombies lurked about and made his way around the two corpses he had just eradicated. Another corner awaited the criminal and he quickly walked around only to have a cool hand grip his shoulder.

A zombified factory worker attempted to pull the criminal closer, but the still-living human anticipated something like this would happen and brought his free arm up to grab his opponent's arm and squeezed hard enough to snap his wrist and then with his extra strength, bent the zombie's arm backward with another sickening crack. Relying upon superior flexibility, Jake spun his entire body around while still holding onto the zombie's broken arm and raised his right leg, bringing his foot down onto the back of his enemy's rotting head. The force knocked the dead man forward and separated his arm from the rest of his body and the criminal finished him off with a stomp squashing the dead man's skull.

"Don't think I don't know you freaks like playing hide and seek," Jake spat kneeling down to scoop up his silenced pistol and noticed the door behind.

The criminal opened the door right away to find two zombies feasting on another man in an industrial jumper with a large pipe wrench in hand and fired silenced rounds into their craniums. More agonized moans were heard from around the corners and Jake began knocking on the walls hoping to lure the cadavers towards him.

"Come to me you bitches," he murmured inching along the wall with gun raised high and continued until the first zombie ambled around the corner raising its arms as it laid eyes upon him, only to be knocked backwards with a round between the eyes. A second zombie appeared, falling forward with a bullet to the right temple before it could even turn to face him and was followed by a third who found its nose destroyed by a round flying through. Despite having wasted three zombies, moaning was still heard from around the corner and the criminal raced to find another crawling towards him with a crowbar sticking out of its back, its spinal cord pierced. Jake ended the final zombie's suffering with a well-placed round through its right eye and it slumped to the floor never to rise again.

With the zombie threat temporarily neutralized, Jake searched around a corner to find more green herbs and then rounded another to find a ladder leading up. Pulling out his radio he spoke, "Leon, come in! I think I've just found our way out of this corridor. Follow the trail of bodies and you'll find me."

"Uh sure…we're on our way," Leon replied.

Within minutes Leon and Ada appeared and the three survivors scaled the ladder to find themselves in a small control room filled with enough handgun bullets and shotgun shells for the three to divide evenly amongst them and then some Desert Eagle clips for Leon and a few speed loaders for Jake. An extra MP5 clip and three cans of first-aid spray were left for the trio. Newly restocked they decided it was time to leave.

Stepping outside, the trio was greeted by the cool breeze of the early fall air and found themselves in what looked like a factory overhang and before them stood something they didn't expect.

On a set of rails sat a 1930's-era looking yellow and reddish-orange train car in the center of an octagon-shaped platform. It was out in the open where the bluish-black nighttime sky was dotted with narrow clouds and the full moon shone brightly and prominently, a mocking omen of death to those who still survived in Raccoon City. How Jake Cavanaugh would ever be able to look at a full moon the same way again once he made it out of this mess was yet another mystery that awaited him beyond the confines of the city turned necropolis.

A small control panel stood near the back entrance of the tram and Leon was near it trying to find how it was started. The young cop sighed in frustration and pounded his fist against the panel, "We need a key, but where? I didn't see any in the office back there."

"Could there perhaps be one inside the tram?" Ada asked and then climbed onto the back platform and tested the back door. The bulletproofed steel door opened with ease and she disappeared inside, Leon following closely behind.

Inside the tram was sparsely furnished with two long benches on opposite sides that could probably hold eight people at the most and an old toilet fixture whose only protection from potential gawking passengers was a curtain. A large speaker sat in one of the ceiling corners, obviously to warn passengers of where they would be headed and on the wall across from the career criminal was a map listing all Umbrella locations with Raccoon City, as well as surrounding communities like Eagle Point, Springvale, Oak Hill, Canter and many others. Sickened by the sight of so many Umbrella facilities, Jake pushed through into the control area.

The small control area was barely larger than the closet back at his apartment hideout in Unity City, with most of the space taken up by a swivel chair bolted to the metal floor and a small refrigerator which contained a few half-empty liquor bottles. "Heh, if Umbrella's employees don't have problems with making destructive viruses, then they certainly have problems with drinking on the job," he mused knowing that this was no time to get drunk, fighting his craving for an ice cold one right now.

A slight glimmer caught his attention and the criminal turned to find a red-tipped key with a yellow tag that had a large black "D" printed on it. "Hey, I think I found what you're looking for!" he called out and brushed past the other two survivors, who by now had taken seats on the benches across from each other.

Stepping back into the cool midnight breeze, Jake was now greeted by the sound of crows cawing from the distance and leapt down to the control panel, hoping to get out before he could be on the receiving end of another kamikaze attack from above. Rushing over to the panel, he slid the key into the slot and turned it.

Surely enough, a vertical row of green lights flickered to life and a large red button began flashing, the signal that they were ready to depart. Now able to hear the sound of flapping wings getting close, Jake quickly slammed the button down.

A loud air horn began blaring in the darkness, resounding throughout the entire industrial district where it was positioned. "So much for being subtle," Jake thought as he leapt onto the platform and nearly threw himself back into the tram and slammed the door tight behind him.

Leon and Ada looked uneasily at the man wondering what could have driven his hasty movement, but he only looked back to them and flatly replied "Going down."

Within seconds the hiss of hydraulics sounded, followed by the clatter of machinery as the platform began its descent.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The hollow rattle of the machinery and bright red lights flashing around him almost made Jake Cavanaugh feel as if he were descending into the bowels of Hell itself.

In a sense he was probably right.

He remembered the entries from the deceased Dr. Ramsey's diary and recalled how the man described being surrounded by horrific beasts that were not supposed to exist. For almost four long, grueling days now the career criminal had been fighting those creatures that were not supposed to exist and had come close to dying more than once.

His mission was to eliminate the Umbrella researcher William Birkin and it was the promise of ten million dollars in cold, hard cash that kept him in the crumbling nightmare of a city. Now, his target had mutated into something ten times more frightening than an ordinary zombie or Hunter ever could be and was out to get revenge on him for the beating he had dished out back in the waste disposal facility.

A sense of betrayal had been eating away at the career criminal from the moment he learned of Dr. Birkin's mutation. This "mysterious benefactor" of his had lied to him and he was determined that if he ever met this person face to face, he would make them suffer the same way he was about to make the former researcher for thrusting him into this mess in the first place. Whether or not this individual expected an outbreak of this magnitude to occur he didn't know, but whoever this person was, he or she was probably some arrogant prick who was probably no better than the higher-ups at Umbrella.

Just being around the pharmaceutical company's insane creations and seeing what they had done firsthand had caused the young career criminal to develop a hatred for Umbrella in general. Jake might not have been one of "the good guys," but he felt the pain of those who had perished over the past few days and could practically hear their tortured souls screaming out for vengeance. Those people deserved to be avenged for the great wrongs that had been committed against them and the criminal would be the bloody hand of karma coming back to haunt their killers.

The thought of higher-up Umbrella figures like William Birkin and the aforementioned members of the Inner Circle literally getting away with murder made Jake's blood boil. In many senses he wasn't much different from those butchers, but he never struck out against the innocent purposely and avoided them as much as possible.

He could actually recall an instance where a member of a rival gang had slaughtered an entire family of innocents who had witnessed one of his crimes. The heinous act reminded the criminal much of his own broken family and the innocent lost. Risking his own personal safety and a possible incident between his employers and their rivals, Jake tracked the rival gang member down and shot him to death much as he had done to the family.

Justice would eventually come to capture those responsible for this mess, and unlike civilized society, none of them would receive a fair trial in court. The Red Dragon would serve as judge, jury and executioner, proving that you didn't always have to be the virtuous knight in shining armor to exact justice upon the true evildoers.

Jake pulled out the photo he had been given of William Birkin, back when he was still an ordinary human.

"You were an arrogant bastard Birkin, and look what it got you," the criminal said quietly, thinking of the monstrosity the former researcher had become thanks to his own creation. The man paid the price because he tried to play God, a scenario all too familiar to him having seen similar occurrences in movies, video games and comics. This was reality and a single man had brought an entire community down with him and for what? His own selfish, misguided ambitions for godhood!

Jake folded the picture back up and spun around on the swivel chair looking back to the passenger area where Leon and Ada sat on opposite sides talking quietly amongst themselves. He noticed how the two seemed to get along better now that things had slightly smoothed out a little between them and started looking more intensely towards one another like feelings were developing between them.

"Huh, next thing I know they'll probably be getting married, having a few runts of their own and moving to some nice house in the suburbs," Jake sarcastically quipped leaning back in his chair and turning around towards the controls before him and began to reminisce about his own past loves.

There had been Veronica down in Vice City, the escort working for Mr. Vercetti. The two of them had their fair share of intimate encounters which he thoroughly enjoyed, but the woman seemed to care about him outside of work and he probably could have enjoyed a relationship with her had he not been forced to flee.

Then there was Roxy Lynn, a hired gun just like him who had a passion for motorcycles and the great outdoors. Together the two of them had torn a path of destruction through the backwoods of northern California, performing a string of robberies, smugglings and winning cash in illegal street races, while simultaneously clashing with biker gangs, smugglers, a hardcore right-wing militia and an entire family of drunken rednecks. The two young hired guns barely escaped after a double cross which saw them nearly fed to the local authorities, but thanks to the career criminal's craft, the duo made it to the nearest hotel and laid low until the heat died down, sharing an intimate moment of their own during that time.

And then there was her, a woman from his past who the thought of sent shivers down his spine, a woman he cared deeply for…

A violent tremor shook the entire platform and jarred the career criminal from his thoughts. Looking back to the passenger area, he was shocked to see a giant claw tear through the wall and a wave of blood splash onto the floor followed by Ada crumpling to the floor lifelessly.

It was the same claw that had attacked them on the sky tram and it had come back to haunt them. "Has Birkin caught up with us this far already?" Jake asked himself. He had to find out.

"Ada! Ada!" Leon cried out as he cradled the injured woman in his arms. Raising the unconscious woman, Jake finally managed to get a good look at her injuries.

A large gash had been torn across her side and was leaking blood out at a rapid pace. Noting the severity of the wound, Jake quickly laid out some nearby towels onto the bench she had been resting on and helped the rookie cop lift her onto the bench. Leon grabbed some of the towels and began applying pressure to her fresh wound while Jake pulled out a can of his first-aid spray and offered it to the rookie along with some of his haemostatic capsules.

Leon snatched her wrist and felt for a pulse, "She's still alive, but she's getting weak," the cop reported looking up to Jake with a fearful gaze.

The same ear-splitting roar that could only be tied to the mutated William Birkin sounded out once again; threatening to ruin both men's hearing and bring the tram down upon them. Acting on instinct, both men with drew their weapons and Leon was about to rush outside when he was stopped by Jake's iron grip clamping down on his wrist.

"Let me handle this. I have a score to settle with this freak," Jake spoke withdrawing the S&W from his shoulder holster and checking to make sure he had a full set of rounds. "Worry about her, she's going to need someone to look after her."

"Be careful," Leon replied as the criminal exited the tram making his way outside.

Jake stepped carefully out the back door pointing in all directions before stepping down to the platform itself and treading as quietly possible. The loud clatter of machinery muted out the smaller sounds and forced the criminal to rely more on his eyes, which was hampered by the lack of light in the massive tunnel with only occasional flashes briefly illuminating the platform. "Come on out wherever you are," he muttered quietly training his gun along the tram's roof and stopped suddenly when he spotted a large shadowy figure.

"You!" he shouted to the shadowy figure, which stared down upon him with glowing red eyes and made a weird gurgling noise. Stepping into the light, the creature revealed itself as the hulking brute whom he had battled back in the waste facility, but now it had grown several inches in height and was much bulkier with a new head and five foot long claws protruding from where its right hand should have been, minus the one that had been blown off by Leon.

"Birkin!" Jake growled towards the giant and trained a shot on its new "head." The mutant only snarled back at him and made a weird clicking noise much like the Predator had from the Schwarzenegger movie of the same title before it let out a more humanly cry of pain and began to convulse.

Looking like it was about to grow again, the Tyrant's flesh began to stretch and bubble beneath the surface until the tearing of tissue sounded and with a hollow groan, all of the skin was ripped from the monster's body.

Jake stood by silently with aim never wavering as he watched the former researcher mutate into something far more hideous than before.

Once the transformation was complete, the former William Birkin now stood ten feet tall and had lost any of his former human features, now covered in masses of blackish-purple, reddish-brown, pink and dark blue skin with numerous tumors and scales. Two additional arms had sprouted from the beast's shoulders, ending with jagged three foot long claws that hungered to slice its adversary into tiny strips.

"You're still one ugly motherfucker," Jake smirked and began firing round after round into the creature's chest.

The painful rounds hammered into the mutant's chest and it was nearly knocked from the roof of the tram, but it caught its balance and let out another mighty howl before leaping down to the platform and began thrashing its claws madly in the career criminal's direction.

Jake was still far away enough from the creature as he reloaded and now concentrated on its head, splattering large portions of blood, tissue and brain matter all over the surrounding metal. The Tyrant was knocked backwards again, but almost immediately shrugged the attack off and charged towards him with claws extended and back arms raised.

"Fuck," Jake grunted as he rolled underneath one of the mutant's lower arms, dodging a swipe that could have left a nasty gash on his back. For the first time, the criminal pulled out the Remington M870 he had acquired from Officer Burchill back in the sewers and began firing into the mutant's back, focusing on its pointy spinal column. The shells impacted the creature slightly and it crumbled forward a bit before they seemed to regenerate and it rose back to its feet.

"Yeah, I know beating your ugly ass won't be easy, but if I beat you once I sure as hell can do it again," the criminal thought to himself as he scanned his surroundings for any possible environmental hazards he could exploit against his adversary. Right now he was fighting in the cramped quarters of an octagonal-shaped platform with a tram that took up most of the space, hindering his ability to move quickly and wouldn't grant him much space for dodging the mutant's attacks. He would have to rely on acrobatics and flexibility to dodge the random strikes. Also, with Leon and Ada still inside the tram, he would not be able to use any explosives at the risk of injuring them. It looked as if he would have to rely upon most of his ammo and striking the beast at critical locations.

The Tyrant grunted loudly and slowly turned while taking shot after shot from the criminal in its clawed arms. The powerful shells showed significant impact and knocked the creature's limbs backward, but did little to deter its advance and only seemed to raise its anger. With a stomp to the metal surface, the creature shot one of its back arms forth, ending just inches in front of the criminal's face.

Jake moved his head back to avoid the razor sharp claws. "That was close," he breathed and fired another round of buckshot into the clawed hand, forcing the beast to let out another roar of pain as it drew the limb back and began attacking him with its additional appendages. One of the slashes caught his baggy pant leg and another from his vest, tearing large chunks out of the fabric on each, but missing his skin as well.

The criminal once again withdrew his magnum and squeezed off a few more rounds at the Tyrant's head, knocking it backwards. With his enemy temporarily distracted, the criminal hefted himself onto the tram's side and pulled himself to the roof.

"He'll probably be able to reach me up here, but for now I'm going to have some fun shooting that large ugly eye," Jake thought taking notice of the large red eye sticking out of its upper arm. The same eye stared at him intently, its black pupil contracting as it focused on him. Apparently the eye could actually see him and it twitched as if it anticipated his plans. He remembered how the monster visibly weakened when struck in its eye and cocked the hammer back, training on the organ.

With a thunderous crack, the bullet hammered into the large eye and sprayed more pink fluid into the air. The Tyrant was visibly affected and began flailing madly trying to pat the rapidly blinking orb. Jake smiled with his result and fired more shots into the giant's extra eye, forcing it to scream even louder in pain.

Unfortunately, the B.O.W.'s gut-wrenching screams had become too deafening for the career criminal and he was forced to clamp his gloved hands over his ears, his head and neck throbbing as they felt the vibrations and threatened to explode. "Damn…you…" he muttered, not hearing his own words as the horrible cry blocked out everything else, including the clattering machinery around them. The pain was so excruciating he didn't register the claw striking the metal near his left foot and it was only when he opened his eyes again that he noticed.

Knowing it would probably warrant another brain clamping cry from the creature, but not having much of another choice; Jake again fired into the giant eye and sent the creature stumbling backward. "That's right, back off fuckhead!" the criminal taunted firing more rounds into the giant organ before he was forced to reload.

Lowering himself back to the metal platform, the criminal rounded the tram and fired a few more potshots at the hobbling monstrosity. Jake sighed to himself realizing that he was getting dangerously low on his magnum ammo and would have to find some more in case he wanted to survive another possible encounter with this freak afterwards. He remembered the danger of possibly using explosives in such an enclosed area, but once again found himself in a situation where he would be forced to compromise his own safety for the sake of defeating an even greater threat.

Removing the MP5 once again from its holster, he checked to make sure that the M-203 attachment was loaded and took aim. He could only hope the tram's exterior would be sturdy enough to withstand the explosions so Leon and Ada would still have protection. "Now where were we?" he mockingly asked the walking abomination.

The Tyrant growled back approaching with hind arms raised high in the air, stalking him slowly and silently hoping to intimidate its prey into surrender. Little did it know, the word "surrender" was not part of its opponent's vocabulary.

Jake casually flicked the safety off his submachine gun and began firing streams at the mutant's rotting face before firing an explosive shell into its upper half. As he expected, the small explosion scorched the tram's steel surface, but did not penetrate, meaning his companions would be safe. The career criminal fired a few more explosive shells into his approaching adversary and drove a few more bullets into its large extra eye. Cuts suddenly began opening all over its slimy surface and gushed buckets of purplish-black blood onto the metal surface around it, creating a hazard for the Tyrant itself as it struggled towards its opponent.

Taking note of its adversary's predicament, the criminal fired an explosive shell into one of its legs, dropping it. The round blew away most of its flesh and nearly severed the limb, but almost immediately the charred flesh began to regenerate and within seconds the beast was resuming its hunt.

Jake continued firing at the area around the beast's large third eye and at its head continuing to slow it down and backing up further to avoid its attempted swipes. The Tyrant was now visibly weakening as its rear arms had lowered and it limped towards him, blood still gushing down its surface. "Finally," Jake thought to himself as he ejected another clip from his MP5 and ran back to load a fresh one.

The criminal raised his gun to fire again when the shatter of glass sounded and flames covered the giant's entire mutated frame. Another wine bottle was chucked at the Tyrant from behind and the spread of flames grew as the projectile made contact. Horrible screams followed as the beast fought with the flames and its diseased blood seemed to only accelerate the rate at which its body burned. Booms of a shotgun sounded and the Tyrant turned its attention away from the career criminal.

Standing near the tram's rear entrance was Leon, equipped with his now customized Remington shotgun and firing away furiously at the Tyrant attacking his companion.

"It's eye! Try to aim for its extra eye!" Jake screamed over the crackling flames as he took aim and fired another explosive shell into the Tyrant's shoulder, inches away from its extra eye. The Tyrant staggered and was close to falling off the platform, but the two men continued to pump it full of lead hoping to drop it long enough for them to make their escape.

Jake continued firing his explosive rounds on the creature while Leon followed blasting the beast with his customized shotgun. The Tyrant was gradually knocked backward with every blast and within seconds was against the railing, the skin of its back tearing off as it brushed against the moving wall behind it.

Fishing through his side pack for any extra explosives, he found that he was now down to one and looked up again to see Leon firing mercilessly into the mutant's smoldering body, depleting most of his shotgun shells, sweat dripping off the younger man as the beast still pressed forth despite its weakened state.

Hefting the submachine gun up one last time, Jake trained his sights on the back of the creature's third eye and steadied his grip. Taking a deep breath, he fired his final shell into the back of the creature's shoulder.

A loud explosion followed and as if the creature were burning in the fires of Hell itself, the Tyrant let out one final tortured cry before collapsing to the cold metal platform and staying down.

Sighing in tired victory, Leon collapsed onto the elevated platform behind him and Jake rushed over to check on his weary companion, careful to avoid the fallen Tyrant in case it were to rise again. Staring at the prone monster for a few minutes he cautiously shifted his gaze to the rookie cop, "Are you alright?"

"I should be fine now that we got that freak down," the cop replied uneasily staring at their fallen adversary, which still burned from the flames of his Molotov cocktails.

"I don't know if that asshole's down for the count yet, but we'd better get far away from it," Jake replied and helped the officer back to his feet. "How is Ada doing? Did you manage to get her stabilized?"

"She's still unconscious, but I think I've managed to stop the bleeding," Leon replied, grunting as he hoisted himself onto the platform and then pushed the back door open. Inside Ada still lay on the bench where they had left her, unconscious with her side heavily bandaged. The towels covering her wounds were saturated with blood with some managing to seep out around her bandages, but otherwise her wounds had probably mostly clotted by now. Professional medical attention would still be needed to ensure her survival.

The loud clicking of the platform locking into place resounded seconds later, indicating they had finally reached their destination. Jake knew the downed Tyrant was still outside and opened the back door. "Get Ada and let's get moving, I'll wait out here and make sure that freak doesn't rise again."

Jake stepped back onto the platform, where the downed Tyrant still lay unconscious, the flames on its body dying out as winds began blowing down from above. A tense feeling still ran through the criminal's already battered body staring down at his fallen adversary, no telling when it would rise again to hunt him down. The creature stalking him was a beast that could not be dealt with through the use of conventional firearms and if those couldn't help then what could? Would he have to pump so many volts of electricity through its body? Would he have to systematically cut it open and rip out its internal organs? Would he have to drop it into a vat of toxic sludge? Or would he just have to drop a nuke on it? There had to be someway to completely eradicate this menace.

The back door swung open again and Leon emerged cradling the wounded Ada, waiting for Jake to get near them as he stepped down and then the two men made their way towards an open area and to the nearest room they could find hoping to find some temporary rest and relaxation before they would be forced to continue their journey.

However, the career criminal could not stop thinking about the defeated beast that lay behind them in a pool of its own diseased blood, a ticking time bomb waiting to rise back at any given second. That beast had once been a man and now it was a relentless killing machine that would be on their tails the second it reawakened.

The only question in his mind now is would he have enough ammunition the next time he encountered the beast? This latest battle had depleted his entire stock of explosive rounds for his M-203, as well as most of his MP5 and S&W ammo and with the other monsters probably running around this facility, was it possible that he would have enough ammo left for another battle if the creature were to return?

"Jake, I need your help here!"

The career criminal turned to find Leon standing near a door labeled "SECURITY" and unable to get the door open due to the burden he currently bore in his tired arms. A look of pain crossed the young officer's features, indicating that the stress was causing his bullet wound to act up again.

"Sure, hold on," Jake replied and opened the door for the man as he carried the injured woman inside. Taking one last look around, the criminal closed the door behind them.

Author's Note: Well here concludes my latest installment of Darkness Arises. This chapter was originally supposed to be two different chapters, but I figured since I probably wouldn't have enough material for two different chapters and because they were so close together, I decided to consolidate them into one chapter, the second time I've done that one this fic (the last being Jake's battle with Mr. X). I hope you enjoyed and read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	35. Chapter 30: Entering The Devil's Playgro

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Chapter 30: Entering the Devil's Playground

It had been over half an hour since Jake and his two companions had arrived at the secret Umbrella research outpost, literally hundreds of miles beneath the surface of Raccoon City, its existence known only to the highest level researchers.

The survivors gathered in a security office, where they had found a cot for the wounded Ada to rest on and the two men had raided a nearby refrigerator for a quick late night snack, a small miracle they had carried on long enough to enjoy another meal. Searching through the nearby lockers, they scrounged up some extra ammo for their shotguns and magnums and another storage chest, which yielded two additional clips for Jake's MP5.

By now Ada had slowly stirred back into consciousness and Leon knelt protectively over her, their conversation the criminal paid no attention to.

Jake sat at the desk working on an abandoned laptop, trying to hack into the system and find whatever information he possibly could regarding the goings-on at the facility. All he managed to find were a bunch of personal e-mails directed to members of the security staff and other useless files on training and security protocol. He did however manage to find a few layouts of the complex and printed maps out for both himself and Leon. Everything else that could have been of possible use had been deleted, either as a security measure or someone else had beaten them here.

All of the valuable data had been stolen and there was nothing more that could be used to pin anything on Umbrella. Sighing in frustration, Jake stood up and returned his attention to Leon, who had risen to his feet after a heartfelt conversation with the injured woman and turned warily towards his travel partner.

"We need to find what we can for her and get out of here as soon as possible," Leon spoke gravely staring down at the woman. "I don't know about you, but if I can't save somebody other than ourselves, then I honestly don't know if I'll have accomplished anything in this mess or not."

Jake looked deep into the man's eyes and nodded, being able to sense the distress within his soul. "It's better that one person survives than nobody at all. When we make it out of here, there will be an even greater war at hand, the war against an international corporation that probably has even more money than God himself, a corporation that could probably retaliate against us and then sweep it under the rug like nothing ever happened. If you ask me, this is just the beginning."

"You're right," Leon timidly replied, "This is only just the beginning. As large as they are, I doubt Umbrella wouldn't overlook even one of their tiniest research facilities just up and disappearing like that. They're going to come looking for us if they know we made it out of here alive."

"We'll probably have to go underground then," Jake retorted checking over his silenced pistol. "There have to be similar people out there who have suffered under those shitheads and probably want them as badly as we do. We'll link up with them and then it's a matter of 'you scratch my back, I scratch your back.' Hopefully they'll have the resources and manpower we'd need to launch a campaign from the shadows. Nothing full-scale or they'd mop the floor with us in an instant." The instant Jake finished his little speech, more moans were heard from outside.

"Just like I thought, there are more of them here!" Leon shouted raising his shotgun, but was silenced by the criminal motioning for him to keep his voice down. Readying his silenced pistol, Jake hugged the wall next to the door and looked to the cop, mouthing "1…2…3!" before he threw the door open and immediately fired into a nearby zombie.

The bullet soared through the zombie's cerebral cortex and it hit the metal floor with a clanging thud. Looking up to the others, Jake saw there were eight more altogether and something was different about them compared to the zombies he had encountered on the streets above. All of them were naked and most of their skin had fallen from their bodies and was still shedding with every step they took. These zombies appeared to be more brittle than their counterparts from above, almost as if they had been engineering in these very labs.

Leon appeared next to Jake and immediately dropped three with a shotgun blast and then switched to his customized VP-70, gunning down a few more in rapid succession before his partner finished off the last two with silenced shots.

"The monsters are here too," Leon muttered and quickly pulled out his radio, "Oh God, I hope Claire is alright. She talked about possibly meeting us here, I just hope she found her way here alright…if she's still alive that is," visible dread filling his last words before activating the radio. "Claire! Are you there? Do you copy?"

An eerie static accompanied by some dull clanks followed before a reply sounded "I'm here Leon. Sherry and I have just reached the tram and were on our way down when the motor overheated and we got stuck. I'm traveling through the bowels of the facility as I speak." The line went silent for a few seconds and then Claire's youthful voice sounded again, "Okay, I've just entered some control room. Wait, I've just found another body and…OH!" A frightened cry ended the transmission and the line went dead.

Leon looked up fearfully to Jake and clamped the radio tight, "Claire! Are you there! Do you copy? Answer me please!" he screamed into the receiver looking like he was about to hyperventilate. An empty static hiss was his only reply and the officer nearly dropped the transceiver to the floor. "Oh God…" he muttered dreadfully and gave a wide-eyed expression to his companion, "She must've encountered another monster! I hope she's not…"

Jake raised his hand once again to silence the terrified officer, "She's not!" he replied flatly and stared back mutely.

Leon looked back dumbstruck, his fear turning to confusion. "What? How can you be sure?" he gasped not knowing what to make of the matter.

"Trust me," Jake replied, the corner of his lip forming a half-smile, "She's no damsel in distress. She can handle herself." He checked the current clip in his silenced pistol and looked over his shoulder to the policeman, "If I were you, I'd worry about that kid. She's probably the only person who can't defend herself in this whole mess. I'm sure Claire has been taking good care of her though, so I wouldn't worry. Now if you mind, we have some exploring of our own to do."

The two men went down a hallway to their left and entered a massive octagonal-shaped chamber that must have been taller than even the highest building in all of Raccoon. A bottomless pit was beneath them with nothing else in sight. A similar octagonal-shaped column stood in the middle of the room which would probably point them to where they needed to go. Strangely, everything was dripping wet as well.

Walking into the column, the duo found some sort of mechanism with a burnt out fuse in the center of it, signaling there were probably doors nearby that needed to be activated.

Looking to both sides, Leon took note of a blue-lit path leading to the west and a red-lit path leading to the east. "We've got more than one path once again and a lot of ground to cover. Jake, why don't you take the red path? I'll take the blue path and see what I can find. Maybe along the way one of us will find a fuse for this mechanism."

"Sounds fine with me," Jake replied and pulled out his katana sword, "Maybe I can get some practice. Been a while since I've had the chance to put this bad boy to use," he said taking a few practice swings and then holding it in a traditional samurai combat stance.

"Alright, keep in touch if you need anything," Leon ordered and then made his way down the blue-lit bridge.

Jake nodded silently to the leaving man and made his way down the red light bridge ready to use his blade for the first time in more than a day. Sneaking a peek at his digital watch, it was now after 1 in the morning, September 30, 1998. He had now been in the nightmare for four long, arduous days which were taking a physical and mental toll on him with every small skirmish he endured, but he vowed it would not break him.

Emotions were powerful things that could determine every little outcome, and for years Jake had been a master at keeping his emotions in check. To control how a person felt was impossible, but the career criminal had endured enough hardship in his life as it was and had learned coping tactics throughout the years which had acted as his defense mechanisms. Steeling his mental defenses he continued forth.

"I am in control," the voice echoed throughout his mind, "I am the master of my own being, not my fear or my pity. I will not falter in my mission."

The hydraulics hissed loudly as the career criminal approached the door, only to be greeted by a lanky man dressed in the tattered remnants of a bloodstained lab coat. Large chunks were missing from the former scientist's scalp and its shattered glasses still hung from one rim. Hunks of skin hung from its fingers and blood trickled from its mouth as it let out a dry moan.

With a twirl of his sword, the criminal swung the blade upward, slicing a large portion from the cadaver's skull and watched as the brain poured out from its finely crafted opening. He shook his blade to the side to fling the viral-infected blood away and made his way into the hallway.

Six additional zombies clad in lab coats, light blue surgical scrubs and black security uniforms stumbled towards the criminal with arms raised ready to move in for the kill.

"Strength in numbers as usual, I've always got my work cut out for me!" Jake smirked looking down to his blade, "Looks like I'll be making more use of you than I thought."

Jake approached the nearest zombie and made two quick slashes across the walking corpse's chest before delivering a third which sliced its head clean off. Twirling his body around, he slices another's head off and then leapt forward driving his blade through the skull of another. With three down already, he pulled his blade out and sliced the head off the fourth one and then took down the last two with a massive spinning heel kick, following up by driving his blade through both their skulls.

"Alright, got those freaks taken care of," Jake thought aloud and tried the nearest door, which was locked, and then made his way to the door at the end. It was unlocked. Readying his silenced pistol he slowly opened the door.

"You're going down asshole!" a voice suddenly screamed and the criminal found a Glock-17 pistol shoved into his face. Responding with his lightning-like reflexes, Jake grabbed the man's hand and twisted it behind him and then threw him into the nearest wall. The frightened man still tried to fight with him and pulled out an extra pistol he had kept hidden in his soiled lab coat.

Seeing no other choice, Jake raised his silenced pistol and fired three rounds into the man's chest, sending him flying backwards onto a nearby bench.

Hearing more footsteps, the criminal spun around to barely dodge an iron pipe directed at his skull. Using the same reflexes that had saved him before, he jumped the researcher from behind while the man recovered from his attack and put him in a headlock, placing his silenced Beretta to the man's temple. It wasn't until he heard more panicked screams that he finally noticed the other people in the room.

Huddled in the corner of the staff quarters were five additional researchers and a man in a gray industrial jumper who was either a janitor or maintenance worker. All of them carried melee weapons ranging from survival knives to brooms and were covered from head to toe by blood and grime, but appeared to have no serious injuries that could render them a threat. In the northwest corner of the room was another corpse lying near a previously ignited puddle of gasoline with charred vines surrounding it and an opened vent above.

Jake kept his gun firmly pressed against the researcher's temple, which he now noticed was a short, mostly bald African-American male wearing thick bifocals and a stethoscope around his neck. He listened wordlessly to the man's whimpering and then tightened his hold motioning for him to shut up before he spoke.

"Alright nobody move or your friend gets it," the criminal spoke, his narrowed eyes focusing on the group before him. As if to emphasize his words, he drove the muzzle further into the researcher's temple and pulled the hammer back, prompting the man to form a silence scream on his face, fearful of taking a bullet.

"Please, don't hurt him!" one of the researchers, a woman in her late forties with shoulder-length gray hair and black wire-rimmed glasses, called out throwing her hand up, only to earn a cold glare from the criminal.

Staring long and hard at the woman cursing her foolish bravery, he finally took in the four other researchers and the maintenance worker. To the woman's immediately right was a middle-aged man around the woman's height with short black hair and icy blue eyes clutching a fire axe covered in crusted blood. Behind him stood the man in the industrial jumper, a tall, heavyset man with short blonde hair covered by a turned around baseball cap armed with a pipe wrench. In the corner behind the woman was a mostly bald older man in his late sixties wearing glasses and the remnants of a red tie. In his age-marked hands he held a .38 caliber snub-nosed revolver, but judging by the trembling the criminal could tell that the man probably didn't even know how to use the gun, let alone be brave enough to even attempt firing it. Next to the old man was a slightly younger researcher with receding brown hair and a big puffy mustache that almost made him look comical, holding a gleaming survival knife that he had probably not had the chance to use yet. The last man was a short Asian barely over five feet tall with slicked back black hair and carried the splintered remnants of a broom he had crudely sharpened into a spear. A motley crew if there ever was one, truly a twisted miracle that a bunch of white coats could possibly survive the very horrors they had created.

"Answer my questions and I won't," Jake replied, the venomous hiss never leaving his voice as he slightly loosened his grip on the researcher, allowing some of the color to return to his face.

"What do you need to know? Name it and we will help the best we can!" the older man with the revolver shouted from behind the woman, the hesitation heavy in his fragile voice.

Deciding to play dumb once again he brought up the monsters, "Tell me what the hell is going on with all of those zombies and Lickers running around out there?"

"Oh, you mean the 'Re3's?" the black-haired scientist asked, receiving a sharp glare from Jake.

"Yes, those Re3's as you call them! I've nearly been killed by God knows how man of them!" Jake growled to the man, forcing him to take cover behind the maintenance worker, who was sweating bullets himself at the mysterious man's presence.

"It must have been a T-Virus leak," the woman scientist spoke up again. The criminal remained silent knowing that it was the T-Virus that turned the people around him into undead cannibals. Seeing that she now had some room for speaking, the woman proceeded to explain what the T-Virus was the to criminal and the events that had led up to the eventual viral outbreak in Raccoon City, pretty much reciting most of what Sebastian had in his diary. She also stated that the virus was only communicable through bites and scratches from an infected carrier.

"Okay, so is there a cure to this little virus of yours?" Jake asked applied extra pressure to the researcher he held, drawing more muffled cries from the smaller man.

"We're sorry, but there is no cure for this virus," the mustachioed researcher replied, "But believe us, we're working diligently on a cure for this abomination! We've been at it for months!"

"Damn…" Jake cursed under his breath. The criminal truly was disappointed by that revelation, hoping that they had developed some kind of vaccine for the virus. "They created this disaster; you'd think they'd have the decency to develop an antidote to cover up this mess. Guess not. They might not be that stupid, but they are that arrogant," he thought to himself.

His thoughts then shifted to the people who had died because of the T-Virus, ordinary people like Bob Turner, Sheila Byrd, Marvin Branagh and countless others. Then they shifted to those who had lost much because of the ordeal, like Donald Byrd, David McGraw, Mark Wilkins, Kevin Ryman and Jill Valentine, people who had lost friends, relatives, acquaintances, careers and so much more. Lastly, his thoughts moved on to those who had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, like Leon Kennedy, Claire Redfield, Ada Wong, Eric Rawlings and the other poor souls who had the misfortune of passing through Raccoon City when it was in the middle of an indescribable uproar only to find themselves caught in a deathtrap with no way out.

Returning his attention to the researchers he inquired about a way out, "Alright is there any way out of this place? Something that can get me far away from here, like a helicopter or a train?" he asked purposely neglecting to mention his companions. Doing so would endanger them if there were Umbrella security forces still patrolling the perimeter and the researchers gained the fortitude to rat him out.

"There…is a…train…that leads…out of…here" the researcher he held managed to choke out.

The nameless man he held finally spoke something that could be of use and cautiously the criminal released his grip on the man's throat, allowing him to sink to his hands and knees. Jake kept his pistol trained on the downed man to deter him from escape and let him regain his breath before he spoke up again.

"Tell me where this train is and make damn sure you're telling me the truth…or else…" Jake moved his pistol downward and trained it on the man's groin giving him an evil smirk.

"There is a train on the P-4 level of this facility that should take you to nearby Latham," the man spoke eying the silenced pistol nervously. "It's just a few floors down, but you will need to find a MO Disk to open the hermetically sealed vault doors, that and a platform key to get the train operational."

"Anything else I need to know?" Jake asked, his aim unwavering as his cool blue-gray eyes pierced the man's soul.

"Yes, if any biohazardous material at all finds its way onto the train, you will have to dispose of it immediately or else the train will come to a complete standstill and you'll be stuck where you were before," the researcher spoke, some calm returning to his voice as he told the absolute truth, hoping that he would be spared from certain doom.

"All I needed to know," Jake replied taking his pistol away from the researcher, who quickly scampered back towards his colleagues. "If you people know about this train then why the hell haven't you made your way there yet?"

"Are you crazy? There are too many of those monsters lurking about out there!" the Asian researcher cut in, his voice thick with a Vietnamese accent. "Those creatures have already massacred all of our security staff and we are left with only these pitiful tools to defend ourselves with," he motioned towards the makeshift spear he held in trembling hands. "If we set foot anywhere outside of here, they would eat us alive!"

"Well, karma's a bitch ain't it?" Jake retorted, wanting to rub the man's own ignorance back in his face. This researcher had obviously contributed to the creation of these mockeries of nature ignorant of the possible ramifications that could follow, and now here he was cornered by his own creations armed with only a primitive spear. "You created these freaks; don't you think it's about time you owned up to your own mistakes?" the criminal thought bitterly and turned his attention to the other researchers.

"And you seriously think the cavalry will come down here to rescue you?" Jake asked taking note of the two dead researchers in the room. "As boxed in as you are down here I doubt they'd even be able to reach you."

"Not entirely!" the woman spoke up again, "Before our mainframe was damaged, we managed to send out a distress e-mail to the Umbrella Special Services! They should be on their way at any minute!"

"Terrific," Jake thought to himself sarcastically, "Just what we need, a bunch of trigger happy commandoes showing up ready to shoot anything that moves. Knowing Umbrella, they'll probably come just to silence these poor schmucks and wipe out evidence of any wrongdoings going on down here."

"Any idea when they should be arriving?" the criminal asked.

"No, like I said, our mainframe was damaged shortly after we sent out the e-mail!" the woman replied hesitantly, "We have no idea if they'll be coming at all and the workstation in here isn't functioning properly either. Like you said, we're basically boxed in here."

Jake looked over to the corner where the other deceased researcher lay and then glanced up towards the open vent. "What about that vent over there? Haven't you tried getting out through there?"

"We sent one of our colleagues through there a few hours ago," the black-haired researcher spoke, "That was four hours ago and we heard some screams…we suspect he probably didn't make it out alive."

Jake looked back to the vent and sighed, "Fine, I'll check it out. I don't know if I'll be back or not, but I'll see what I can find."

"You'll come back for us won't you?" the older man spoke up again, "Please tell me you'll send help for us at least!"

The criminal looked back to the older man, whose nametag read "Birdwell," the horror flashing in his eyes, wordlessly pleading that he would come back to rescue him.

"I don't know," Jake replied flatly, "If I don't make it out of here alive, then you're all on your own." He then noticed the two handguns the researcher he killed had been carrying, the Glock-17 and the other an H&K USP9. Kneeling down without taking his eyes off the researchers, he scooped up both weapons and tossed them over to them. "You got any other weapons besides these?" he demanded.

"In the locker over there is an official Umbrella Inc. Incinerator Unit, or as you'd probably call it a flamethrower," the mustached scientist reported, "Although it is still highly experimental and none of us had any formal training in using it."

Jake ignored the man's comment and walked over to the locker opening it to find a standard military-issue-looking flamethrower positioned vertically with a fresh fuel capsule loaded. He then looked back to the maintenance worker, who had not uttered a single word while he had been there and pulled out his shotgun and tossed it to the man. "Take it, I won't be needing it anymore," he spoke and then pulled out his case of shotgun shells and slid them along the ground towards the man.

"Gee, thanks Mister…"

"My name is of no concern to you," Jake spat hoisting the flamethrower and pointing it threateningly in the worker's direction. There was no way in hell he was going to give his name out to an Umbrella employee, especially when he had been sent to eliminate one of their own. Shooting another threatening glare, he brushed past the researchers and hoisted himself up into the opened vent. "If any of you try to follow me, you'll end up just like your friend down there. I'd stay put if I were any of you," he shot back from the vent and made his way through.

The vent was much wider than the criminal thought and he had no problems making his way through despite his muscular bulk. As he climbed on his stomach, he suddenly found himself moving through some mysterious green gunk which he assumed was probably the leftovers of the plant that had once occupied the vent. Sticking out of the goop he found the remnants of a gold Rolex watch and near it, a cracked ID card with the name "Luce" printed on it. "Must've been their colleague, looks like he didn't get too far after all," Jake thought as he climbed through the sludge trying to ignore the sticky sensation on his arms and keeping his head low to avoid getting it in his hair.

Rounding a corner, the criminal found the remnants of a black dress shoe and a Browning HP handgun which had been filled with the green gunk and was no longer useful. A sickly green light shone in from the opening and at the end of the vent he found an abandoned survival knife coated with both the green slime and human blood. A set of ragged hisses he knew all too well sounded out, prompting him to ready his S&W as he moved to the opening.

Beneath him two Lickers feasted on the remnants of what was probably the lost colleague and had pieces littering the once spotless floor. They stopped once the criminal had gotten close enough and perked their heads into the air listening for wet movements.

Jake didn't even give them time to act and with two cracks of his revolver they were both dead with their heads obliterated. Lowering himself onto a nearby bench, the criminal found himself in another bunkroom, one that had been covered in vines that seemingly grew out of the walls and ceiling. Creeping around to make sure none of them came to life trying to grab him; he made his way towards a locker in the southwestern corner of the room and searched it to find more shotgun shells as well as more speed loaders for his revolver and another MP5 clip. A loaded Mossberg shotgun was present, but he decided to leave it for in case Leon, Claire or someone else passed through who needed it.

Stepping through the door, Jake found himself back in the hallway he had just come from and listened for sounds from the nearby quarters if the researchers were still present. Nothing but a few muffled voices; he would leave them behind and let them fight their own way out. "You're on your own you slimebags," he thought to himself and turned around.

The hiss of hydraulics was heard once again and from the corner a blast door raised and two new abominations that should not exist made their presence felt.

Slithering towards the career criminal came two person-sized plants, one mostly green and the other mostly red, moving on what looked like legs and each with two arm-like appendages with sharp looking tips that almost resembled flowers that had not yet bloomed.

"Time for some more pest control," the criminal spoke quietly raising the flamethrower and leveling it towards the creatures' "heads." They could not see him, but could probably still smell him and slinked towards him with the red plant opening its head to fire a blast of poisonous mist at him. The shot landed at the criminal's feet and he leapt backward to avoid inhaling the fumes.

Squeezing down on the trigger, a ray of fire shot out and swallowed the two mutations whole, letting out their tortured screams while they withered away into piles of ash and the flames died down.

"Christ, it'd almost be scary to think of what it would be like if Umbrella was trying its hand at farming," Jake whispered pulling out his radio and speaking. "Leon are you there?"

"Yeah, I'm here Jake. How are you holding up?" the rookie officer asked from his end of the line.

"Fine so far," the criminal spoke reviewing his surroundings and then staring back to the pile of ash that had once been the Ivy plants.

"I've got the power back on and now we should be able to access certain doors," Leon replied.

"Uh huh…listen I've overheard that some Umbrella cleaner units might be on their way. Chances are they might have some itchy trigger fingers and under orders to blast anything that walks, including anything still human, so you better be on the lookout for anything suspicious," the criminal explained, remembering what the researchers had told him.

"Alright, you'd better watch out yourself. Let me know if you come across anything else." The line then went dead and the criminal was left to resume his adventure.

"Yeah, watch out kid," Jake thought to himself looking back once again towards the burnt plants and down to the zombies he had hacked apart with his blade. "We're walking around in the Devil's playground down here; God knows how many more of these things are wandering about down here. Being the origin of the outbreak, there could be plenty more down here than what I've seen on the streets above and with the twisted minds these deluded fools had; I doubt I've seen the last of their "pets" running around. Fuck, I wouldn't be surprised if Dracula, Frankenstein and the Wolf Man all showed up wanting a five star meal."

Kicking the next door open, the career criminal found himself diving against the wall to avoid an acid blast directed at his chest. While the beast recovered from its attack, Jake stuck his flamethrower out the opened door and torched two more Ivy plants that had been loitering on the platform.

"Just no low these clowns won't stoop to," Jake said aloud as he now found himself in a large elevator shaft with a huge vine-like leviathan spanning down as far as his eyes could see, moving tentacles sticking out from all directions threatening to reach out and grab him at any second. Below more Ivy scuttled about sensing the human's presence and some of the tentacles began moving towards him.

With the squeeze of a trigger, fire rained down upon the mutated plants.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Do you think that mysterious fellow made it?" Dr. Birdwell asked his colleagues standing near the vent while trying to avoid the sprawled corpse of Dr. Pentland, who had been strangled to death by the mutated vines while trying to ignite them with some gasoline after Dr. Luce had gone missing.

"I don't know, but he appeared to be pretty well-armed so I believe his chances would be high," replied Dr. Brentwood, the middle-aged dark-haired man. "But I don't know if he'll be sending any help back for us, he didn't seem to care much that we were alive."

"Well somebody has to come through and rescue us," spoke Dr. Troyer, the only woman in the room. "We have done everything the company has told us and have served them loyally throughout this whole project. There must be something they will do for us!"

A loud crash came from above and the six researchers and maintenance worker jumped back as a ventilation duct cover fell. The armed employees pointed their guns to the opening fearing that another monster was about to make its entrance.

A pair of human feet suddenly appeared from the opening and a dark-clad figure dropped to the floor with the grace of a feline, followed closely by another. Two men – at least they appeared tall enough to be men, stood before the frightened workers wearing gas masks and bulky black combat gear that bore no company symbols to identify who they worked for. Glowing red eyes peered upon the researchers, who did not know what to make of the mysterious men and cautiously lowered their weapons. Looking to each other, the nameless troopers withdrew M-4 assault rifles and pointed them at the researchers, forcing them to raise their hands in the air.

Despite having weapons of their own, these researchers would be no match for two alien-looking killing machines with assault rifles and one by one, each dropped their firearms.

"Don't shoot; we're with the science team!" Dr. Eagles, the African-American researcher called out, hoping these men were the rescue party sent by Umbrella.

Still saying nothing, the two commandos looked to each other and nodded. Squeezing down on their triggers, the rifles crackled to life, cutting down the battered researchers in a wave of screaming hot metal knocking them back against the wall hard enough to break their bones.

The gunfire continued until the trooper in front brought up his hand up motioning for his subordinate to stop. He listened intently for any sounds and brought his rifle up the second he heard a moan, escaping from the tired lips of the maintenance worker. The commando fired a single round through the dying man's skull, silencing what was left of him.

Looking back to his subordinate again, the trooper tapped the side of his helmet, activating his communication device, "All clear!"

Two more commandos dropped down from the ventilation duct and began searching the fallen researchers stripping them of weapons, ammo and anything else of use they carried. Surveying the carnage he had just created, the leader tapped on his helmet again and spoke into the miniature microphone.

"Cavanaugh was just through here, we heard his voice," the commando spoke in a robotic tone.

"Leave him," an icy voice commanded from the other end, "He has a job to do and it must be seen to it that he completes it."

"What if we cross paths with him?" the commando asked, prompting stares from his fellow soldiers.

"You won't," the voice flatly stated, "Neither you or any of your men are to interfere in his mission. If for some reason he is to stumble across any of you, you are simply to knock him out and leave him be. Do I make myself clear?"

The trooper looked to his commandos and breathed deeply, "Affirmative."

"Good, you have your orders Major. Now get to them!"

"Yes sir!" the Major replied.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake Cavanaugh literally burnt a path of devastation through a pack of mutated Ivy plants, torching them with a flamethrower he had retrieved from one of the many staff quarters located throughout the underground facility. Moving through a door, he found himself in a dull gray hallway, where almost immediately a Re3 dropped through one of the ceiling tiles landing inches away from his feet. As quickly as it landed, the beast was swallowed whole by a wall of fire compliments of the criminal's heavy artillery.

"Magnificent, don't you agree?" the icy voice whispered to a commando standing near him.

Unknown to the career criminal, a mysterious individual was watching his every move from the safety of the facility's main control room, an individual who wielded much power and influence.

"Just look at how gracefully he tears through those inhuman heathens like they are mere flies. I tell you, now I know my intuitions were right in selecting him for this assignment.

"There were those who looked at me oddly when I planned on picking a "petty street criminal" to perform this task for our organization, but now I see that he is much more than that.

"This man is a highly competent street criminal, a Grade A trained killer, a jack of all trades, a master of his craft. This man is no ordinary criminal, he is a born soldier, able to adapt to any battlefield he sets foot in. Now I know my contact in the Mafia wasn't just on some drunken tirade when he boasted of how good this man was. Jake Cavanaugh is the real deal I tell you, an asset we would be foolish to part with once this mission is complete."

The man he spoke to was clad in the same commando gear as the other troopers milling about the room; however a set of golden bars on his uniform signaled that he was of higher rank than everybody else. In his hands he held an M-4 assault rifle just like the others, but also carried two sidearm pistols instead of one. He turned to face the mysterious man, "Are you saying you want to recruit him after this mission is over with?"

"Precisely Commander," The Man spoke, hidden in the shadows, "I feel with the right payments and benefits, we could make Jake Cavanaugh a full-fledged member of our family," he continued, adding emphasis to the word "family."

"Are you sure?" the Commander asked, looking down to his troops before looking back to the mysterious man, "You've sent the man into a city full of the walking dead. Do you seriously think promising only ten million dollars would be enough in convincing him to join our cause? The man is a mercenary! How can you be certain he won't just move on to the next bidder once he collects your payment?"

The mysterious man let out a low chuckle, "No need to worry. The man is a wanted criminal; he is constantly on the run and to a man who probably cannot spend the night in even the lowest shack, ten million dollars is a lot. Plus, there is so much else we can offer him.

"Think about it, with the authorities constantly on his tail, all we would have to do is bribe the right contacts and offer him shelter from those untouchable types, and if that isn't enough, we could promise him all the hard drugs and loose women to his heart's content.

"If even those promises are unable to convince him…" The Man cracked his knuckles, "then he will just need some more "persuasion," if you catch my drift."

The Commander remained silent and returned his attention to the troops below them. Several armed commandos patrolled the control room ready to respond if any B.O.W.'s decided to make their presence felt. At the vast control consoles, numerous techs were hard at work hacking into the system, on a mission to gather what remaining data they could for their company and then erase everything to cover their tracks. They only took what was of great importance, all personal e-mails and anything else deemed useless was left behind, knowing all terminals would eventually be destroyed.

The Man smiled to himself as he walked with hands behind his back along the row of techs seated at the panels observing their progress, which was going along as planned. He only brought along his best techs and when they were through, those bastards at Umbrella would have no idea what hit them.

Moving towards the end of the row, he happened across a tech named Hewlett, who like the other techs wore a black sneaking suit that made him look more like a ninja than a commando. A small laptop sat at his side connected to the mainframe and at the moment a bunch of miscellaneous jargon that only the finest hacker could understand ran down the screen. Deciding it was time for a status report he crept up behind the man and cleared his throat.

Immediately, the hacker jumped upon recognizing his voice and nervously looked up to The Man standing tall over him.

"Ah Mr. Hewlett, I do believe I placed you in charge of monitoring security am I right?" the man spoke looking up towards the numerous monitors.

"Yes sir, so far I have managed to secure the holding pens, meaning our men should be safe from any additional dangers, but will still have to put up with those creatures that managed to escape," the tech reported pushing his large glasses back into position and resuming his previous duties.

"Good and how is Mr. Cavanaugh's progress coming about? Are you still following him through the security system?"

Hewlett took his hands away from the laptop and focused again on the control panel in front of him. Typing in a few commands he brought up the video feed showing the career criminal also known as "The Red Dragon" torching a few more zombies with his flamethrower before pulling out his katana sword and chopping the survivors into little pieces.

"He's doing well so far sir, but he's getting closer to us as well," the nervousness returning to the tech's voice as he thought of what would probably happen if the career criminal were to find everybody here and the bloodshed that would likely follow.

"You need not worry about him as we will be out of here soon," The Man spoke, sensing his subordinate's fear. Looking at more of the screens he saw his men doing their routines, but he also noticed a few civilians running through the halls fighting for their lives. "Who are those people?"

Hewlett took note of the unknown civilians running around in the facility and typed in the commands that brought up their images. "I don't know, but most of them definitely do not look like Umbrella staff members."

Typing in some more commands, the hacker brought up video feed from the V.A.M. Room, where a youthful-looking officer with short brownish-blonde hair and dressed in one of the newly-issued R.P.D. uniforms with a bloody bandage wrapped around his shoulder blasted a gang of the manufactured zombies with a customized Remington M1100. After killing all of the zombies, the officer then searched the corpse of a U.S.S. soldier lying near the holding tank.

"So it appears one of the R.P.D.'s "finest" has somehow made his way down here," The Man observed with no hint of annoyance like the hacker anticipated.

"Shouldn't we send some of the cleaners after him?" Hewlett asked motioning to The Man's radio.

"That won't be necessary. We are here on a retrieval mission, sending our men after him would be a waste of time. If he crosses our path he will be dealt with accordingly."

Switching over to another feed, the two men observed a young woman wearing a rose-colored vest with "Made in Heaven" stitched in the back blasting a giant mutated moth with flame rounds from an M-79 grenade launcher. Once the mutated insect was vanquished, she reported to a nearby computer where she cut up some mutated maggots and then typed in a command before issuing her fingerprint.

"This feed was actually recorded a few minutes ago and we've analyzed her fingerprint, belonging to one Claire Redfield."

"Redfield…" The Man growled slightly, but kept it low to avoid drawing attention.

"We've also taken note of the fingerprint belonging to the officer in the V.A.M. Room; apparently his name is Leon S. Kennedy and according to records he was a recent recruit for the Raccoon Police Department," Hewlett reported as he brought up another feed, this one of a little girl in a sailor outfit who could be seen crawling into the nearest vent. What she was running from was later revealed as a seven foot tall behemoth in a green trench coat walked into view, stopping to look around before continuing its unknown mission.

The Man suddenly smiled as he recognized the little girl and unknown thoughts ran through his head. His smile broadened as he was shown the next feed, which was of an Asian-American woman in a red cocktail dress staggering through one of the lower halls braced against the nearest wall. A large gash appeared on her side and she kept one hand pressed tightly against it. "I see you never give up, the reason I recruited you for your mission," The Man thought. The nameless woman suddenly stopped and held herself against the wall as she reached for her Browning HP handgun. Two zombified lab workers stumbled into view and were quickly dispatched with shots to their rotting craniums. Moving further down the hall, the woman collapsed to her knees as she discovered the corpse of a security guard and began searching through his pockets for ammo, coming up with two clips and a keycard.

Bringing up the next feed, The Man was greeted by the image of another woman he knew. This woman was another attractive young woman with shoulder-length hair she wore pulled back and wore a yellow jacket with a black skirt. In one hand she held a gun and the other an opened steel briefcase used for transporting hazardous chemicals. She stumbled about with a dazed expression on her face before the men found out what was wrong with her. Convulsing violently, a small organism burst from her chest and disappeared down the hall as quickly as it had appeared.

Reaching for his radio, The Man nearly shouted his order, "Zeta 3, report to the P-9 transport station immediately. There is a body carrying traces of the G-Virus that could do well for our research. Gather your forces and find the body, get it to the nearest transport pronto!"

"Acknowledged, Zeta 3 commencing search!" the retrieval unit's leader replied.

"Monica Lewis…" The Man spoke silently, "You always were a troublesome wench when you worked for me. Unfortunately, your independence and brashness have cost you dearly." He chuckled coldly at the deceased woman, remembering how she had nearly caused problems for him in the past.

"Well who do we have here?" Hewlett smiled as he brought up the next feed.

A shot was shown from the security locker room, where a familiar-looking blonde hair woman in a white lab coat emerged from one of the lockers after a Licker had made its pass and ran into the nearby hall, where several carriers stumbled about. Raising her pistol, the woman dodged around the zombies and only gunned down those who stood directly in her way.

"Annette Birkin, long time no see," The Man smirked, "Where is she headed for?"

"I'm tracking her now, apparently she's heading for the P-4 laboratories, William's old stomping grounds," Hewlett spoke looking back to the man and smirking before returning his attention to the monitors.

Moving down to the B5 level, the two men were given another video feed where another young officer, this one slightly older with shaggy reddish-brown hair just past his ears and wearing an outfit similar to Leon Kennedy's, ran down a hallway being chased by two MA-121s, or as they were more commonly referred to as "Hunters." As soon as he had made enough distance, the officer turned around and raised a Franchi SPAS-12 assault shotgun, firing several blasts before managing to take down one of the creatures with a blast to the face and wounding the other before putting it out of its misery. As the officer had his back to the camera, The Man took notice that the cop strangely had an Oriental-looking talisman hanging from his uniform. Finishing off the two Hunters, the man entered an adjoining hallway, where he happened across a wounded younger man and talked briefly to him before he was given a Desert Eagle .357 magnum handgun.

"That man looks familiar, but from where I can't put my finger on it," The Man spoke eyeing the cop closely.

Lastly, there was a younger blonde-haired woman in a once elegant red business suit that had been ruined by the filth she had endured over the past few days. Strapped to her back was a dark brown knapsack and in her hands a SPAS-12 shotgun similar to what the second cop had carried. The woman explored a small chemical storage room where she rifled through the shelves looking for anything of use, finding two boxes of 9mm. bullets, a battery, a yellow chemical bottle and another bottle filled with unknown content, loading all objects into the backpack before she searched the rest of the room. Some debris fell from the ceiling and the woman jumped backward as another Re3 fell from the ceiling. Raising the shotgun, she quickly fired three blasts into the creature's sinewy body before running up to it and firing a final blast into its head, killing it for good.

"I know that woman," The Man spoke with an air of disgust, "The bitch's name is Alyssa Ashcroft, she's some hotshot reporter with the Raccoon Press who had tried to cause a lot of trouble for me in the past. Thankfully at the time I had friends in high places that covered for me, but still, a problem left untouched will only continue to fester until it is eliminated."

"If we have a member of the press running about in this facility during our operation, then shouldn't she be dealt with immediately?" Hewlett asked, knowing of the abundant conspiracy theories circulating in regards to the Umbrella Corporation and its rivals. "Who knows what she could dig up if she were to encounter any of our troops."

The Man did not reply and stared at one of the cameras placed in an empty corridor, where the creature that had burst from Monica Lewis's chest scurried up a shaft following its sense of smell. "Somehow I don't think she will be much of a problem any longer."

A loud crackle distracted the man from his current train of thought and he picked up his radio. "What is it?" he asked patiently while trying to view the screens at the same time.

"Sir, this is Gold Squad. We have located the samples, found in the Level B-9 chemical storage facilities. We encountered serious resistance, but now seem to have things under control. All samples appear to be intact and good to go. Awaiting orders!" a voice reported from the other end.

Hewlett switched to a camera in the Level B-9 chemical storage facility, where several commandos stood with freshly smoking rifles. The room was littered with the corpses of zombies, Lickers, Hunters and even a few Lurkers and Eliminators that had been sighted at the Marcus Estate during the incident back in late July. There were a few corpses of his own men in the room as well, but he could only pick out three not including the wounded trooper who was currently being tended to by the company's medic.

Gold Squad was the best of his squadrons, so naturally he expected that they would probably the only unit able to handle a crisis of that magnitude. These men were the best of the best, all survivors of previous skirmishes with Bio-Organic Weapons who had lived on to relate the horrors of their previous experiences to fresh rookies and their very own fellow survivors. Despite the high volatility of their assignments, the unit had a very low mortality rate with three deaths and one wounded being a very high number for them.

"Hope they're not getting soft on me," The Man remarked thinking of the statistic. He watched as the unit's computer expert approached the nearby locked cupboards and pulled out his hacking device, typing in a few codes before the electronic locks were deactivated and ten of the surviving members began sifting through the contents removing several canisters, while two others helped the wounded man out of the room.

"Check up on the progress of our other units," The Man ordered leaning closer to the monitors. Hewlett's fingers flew across the keyboard and within seconds they were viewing several images from scattered intervals throughout the facility.

In one of the many desolate ducts, a wounded researcher sat in the corner clutching an injury on his side when two troopers stormed into the room and ended his life in a bloody hail of bullets. Another feed cut to a desolate corridor just in time to witness a researcher having his head swallowed whole by another Ivy and then bloody bone fragments spat onto the metal flooring. Two more Umbrella researchers were gunned down in cold blood by the merciless commandos and in the next room over, another researcher ran away from a trio of commandos only to end up torn apart by a pack of rabid carriers. In a blood-drenched break room, a lone zombie feasted away on the mangled remnants of a former co-worker, chilling the hacker's bones as it looked up with its soulless gaze and bloody chunks dripping from its mouth. All screens displayed images of Umbrella personnel being beaten down in their quest for survival.

"Worthless slugs," The Man callously chuckled, an unbreakable smile crossing his features at the sight of his hated enemies suffering from their own stupidity. His gaze was now fixed on a camera in the B7F Experimentation Room, where two of his henchmen stumbled across the zombified corpse of a young Asian-American woman lying facedown on the dull surface among the corpses of several researchers. One of the men knelt down and searched the pockets of her green hooded sweatshirt and her blue jeans until he produced a red and black Umbrella ID card.

"Sir, we've managed to ID one of the corpses, a Yoko Suzuki of the Raccoon Umbrella branch," the trooper reported, "According to her card, she's a pretty high-level researcher around here. What the hell's up with that? The lady looks like a regular college student!"

"Never mind that, soldier. Continue with your task!" The Man ordered.

Before the man could set down his radio, a frantic message blared over the radios, stopping all commandos and techs present from their current duties.

"Commander Karkian, can you hear me? This is Captain Almasy of Delta Unit, we are under attack! Repeat, we are under attack by some unknown monstrosity that has already ripped up a whole bunch of my men! We need backup immediately!" Captain Almasy called out, his transmission riddled with gunfire, dying screams and savage growls.

"This is Commander Karkian, give us your position immediately!" the Commander shouted from behind the man and rushing over to Hewlett, "Give me a video feed on Delta Unit's last known position! Now!"

Hewlett scrambled frantically across his keyboard until he came across the B6 Testing Facilities, where a large beast tore through several commandos. All of the techs and even the hardened commandos could only stare silently with mouths agape in horror at what they saw.

An eleven foot tall beast made up of purplish-blue skin and covered in red tumors eviscerated four heavily-armed commandos at once using four arms that ended with three-foot long blades. In the center of the beast's chest was a wide open maw surrounded by a line of large fangs dripping acidic saliva. With little effort, the beast scooped up a commando it had already wounded with a slash across the chest and shoved it into its waiting orifice, biting down on the hapless trooper countless times until dismembered limbs rained down upon his butchered colleagues.

"Almasy, are you still there?" Commander Karkian shouted into his radio.

Tense silence filled the room until the captain's reply came, "Yeah Karkian, I'm here! We need backup immediately, my squad is now down to myself and four other men and there is no way in Hell we're going to be able to down this freak ourselves! We need help!"

Commander Karkian looked around to his fellow commandos and was about to speak until his radio was snatched away from him and crushed by The Man's powerful clamping grasp.

"What are you doing?" Commander Karkian shouted, "Those men are dying out there! They need our help!"

Before the Commander could protest any further, a black-gloved hand wrapped around his neck and squeezed down on his windpipe until the commando gasped for air, his face turning bright blue and eyes bulging out beneath his gas mask.

"I am in charge of this operation Commander; you will do as I say!" The Man growled, peering through the commando's goggles and into his steely gray eyes beneath, glaring daggers into his soul before he finally released him and let him fall back nearly knocking over another tech. Fiercely staring to the other subordinates present, the mysterious individual picked up his own radio and spoke.

"Pull back immediately, that's an order!"

"But sir…" Captain Almasy called out from the other end, cut off once again.

"Pull your troops out immediately! That's an order! We are dealing with the situation from back here in the control center. Just get your men out of there and to the nearest rendezvous point!"

The Man lowered his radio and turned his attention to the other workers, "All of you, get back to your positions immediately! We will be pulling out soon, but first we have some loose ends to tie up."

He then returned his attention to the camera from the B6 Testing Facilities, where the large mutant impaled another commando on one of its sets of claws and then flung the dying man across the room. Looking beyond the carnage he spotted a blast door that Captain Almasy and three other men were retreating through. The rest of the massive room appeared to be blocked off by impenetrable blast doors as well.

"Lower that door now," The Man ordered, hoping the creature's claws wouldn't be able to slash through the reinforced steel. Without a word, Hewlett began hacking into the function to lower the lone opened blast door and quickly the door began to lower. The sound of groaning hydraulics caught the mutant's attention and it charged towards the door at full speed, being knocked backwards as its head collided with the steel surface. Letting out a ferocious cry unheard due to the lack of audio, the mutant began thrashing away at the steel door.

"That should hold it until we blow this place sky high," The Man spoke to Hewlett and then turned to the other subordinates. "Start packing up and prepare to move out. We've gotten what we've come for and now we have other places to be." He then turned his attention back to the monitor displaying the woman in the red cocktail dress, "Keep a close eye on her, we may have to pick her up before we can pull out."

Before moving on, The Man took one last look at Jake Cavanaugh, who by now was moving through the corridor leading to the P-4 laboratory, cutting a path through a mass of undead with his katana in one hand and silenced pistol in the other.

"So far you have proven to be a worthy investment Cavanaugh, don't let me down and I can make you a very wealthy man."

Brushing past some jogging commandos, he made his way back to the desk he had been giving orders from, where a large black briefcase rested, locked by a code only he knew. Typing the code into the side panel, the case clicked open and The Man was greeted by rows of fresh hundred dollar bills, numbering ten million dollars when counted in its entirety.

"You would be a fool not to accept my offer Cavanaugh. You might think you are something now, but you're not. Only I can make you into something."

The Man then shut the briefcase and looked into the palm of his gloved hand. "There will be no refusing this offer either. Doing so will result in your own demise. I know you are an intelligent man Mr. Cavanaugh and you will do what is right for you, or else…"

Snatching up a small pyramid paperweight, he squeezed it in the palm of his hand and within seconds ground it into sawdust.

The Man watched as the career criminal entered the room where Claire Redfield had just exterminated the giant moth and anxiously anticipated what would happen next.

Author's Note: Hey all hope you just enjoyed my latest installment of "Darkness Arises." Well if you've read previous chapters and read the dialogue closely then I'm sure you'd probably all have an idea of who "The Man" is. I won't reveal his identity until later on, but yes he is a major part of the plot.

I'm sorry to all the Yoko fans out there, but I've done away with her and I plan on making a side story to DA to explain her fate along with the fates of the other Outbreak survivors. Getting back to Yoko, this is kind of a spoiler, but if you play single player mode in "Resident Evil: Outbreak" and don't play as Yoko, you will encounter a zombie version of her in the lab which you must gun down, that's kind of what inspires her death right there for this story.

Other than that, read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	36. Chapter 31: Now You've Got Something To

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Chapter 31: Now you've Got Something to Die For

Before the whoosh of hydraulics could end, Jake Cavanaugh's body flew through the door headfirst, sticking a hand out to catch him before he could collide with a locker.

"Damn…" the young criminal grunted rubbing his sore shoulder and pulling himself back into a sitting position. He felt along his back and ran a finger along the fresh tears in the back of his favorite shirt. "Damned fucking mutated insects…" he grumbled.

The career criminal then looked down to his bloodied sword and the empty silenced pistol resting at his feet remembering what had just happened.

After exiting the plant-infested elevator shaft, the criminal found himself in a series of hallways torching his way through legions of Ivy plants, Lickers and more zombies before his flamethrower ran out of fuel and he was down to cutting a path through the remaining dead with his katana and silenced pistol. He then made his way to a small laboratory that had seemingly been converted into some kind of nest, where he discovered the smoking remnants of a giant moth and was then attacked by a bunch of infected caterpillars falling from the ceiling. Nothing useful was discovered, so he was forced to fight his way through the remaining dead and found himself where he was now.

"No more mysterious benefactors for me…" Jake murmured rising back to his feet and taking in his current surroundings. He was now in some small room lined with lockers and on one wall, a window looking into the P-4 lab where he saw four zombies stumbling about. Lying on the floor he found a discarded white cloth he used to clean his blade and then loaded a fresh clip into his pistol. An automatic door stood to his right, leading to a small decontamination chamber and he approached to find another zombie waiting for him.

The cadaver wore a bloodied white lab coat with a yellow dress shirt and green slacks underneath. Its once sandy blonde-colored hair was now a matted crimson mess with large portions of scalp missing. Part of the former researcher's face had been ripped away and its once green eye dangled from the socket, the remaining eye was now glossed over like the other walking dead. Looking towards the still-living human, acidic bile escaped from the creature's mouth, burning the metal floor beneath. A tortured moan coming from its mouth, it finally made its charge.

"Bastard," Jake whispered and with a wave of his sword, the zombified researcher's head was separated from the rest of its body. He looked through the tinted window where the zombies either staggered about or stood slightly swaying, ready to move at the first movement. Keeping both weapons raised he made his move.

The criminal stepped into a dimly-lit laboratory filled with workstations and machinery where the zombies directed their full attention to him upon entering. A zombie in light blue surgical scrubs stood to his immediate left and was just inches away when he drove his blade through the cadaver's chest and then twisted it so it went up through the brittle skull. Pulling the blade out, he then criss-crossed his arms and fired a shot through the skull of a zombified researcher and then another through the right eye of a second researcher. One zombie now remained in the room and Jake quickly ran up to it and spun his body around, swiping its head off like he had done to the other in the airlock.

Quietly, he stood in the lab waiting for any other possible hazards and after a couple deep breaths again sheathed his sword and kept his silenced pistol drawn. Expecting more possible attacks, Jake continued to creep silently about the lab and eventually moved down a row where he found a workstation covered in dried blood that someone had hastily tried to wash away before it had dried, creating an even bigger mess that before. Bullet holes dotted the wooden desk and tore up the carpeting beneath, even a few spent casings found poorly hidden beneath. He then remembered the conversation between Ada and Annette Birkin where she explained that a retrieval team had been sent after William and gunned him down when he refused to hand over the G-Virus, maybe this was the very spot where he had been shot to near death and injected himself with his own creation.

"They sure suck at cleaning up their own messes," Jake remarked observing the spot closer.

The clatter of a surgical pan hitting the floor came from behind, prompting him to spin around with gun raised. A large storage cabinet at the back of the room stood opened and through a back door ran a white-clad figure slender enough to be a woman.

Jake said nothing and began pursuit, nearly diving through the set of double doors before they could close behind the woman. The reinforced doors locking behind him, he was now trapped in another sparsely-lit hallway with a few labeled offices and at the end another set of steel doors covered by layers of frost with a thin layer of snow surrounding the entrance. It was in the snow that he spotted a foot print and upon closer inspection of the nearby control panel, a fresh set of fingerprints on the 7, 2, 3 and 4 keys.

"Just my luck once again," Jake huffed staring down upon the keypad focusing on the four typed numbers. There could literally be hundreds of combinations to use and he didn't have all night to go through every single one off the top of his head. Someone was on the run, someone who might have more answers about this house of horrors and perhaps know more than those eggheads from back in the staff quarters. Blasting down the door wasn't an option either with the reinforced steel that stood before him and he was left with only one other choice.

"When all else fails, you just gotta pick your way in. The owners don't like it? Tough shit," Jake grinned slightly to his luck finding a discarded screwdriver lying in an open toolbox. Removing the cover panel he quickly set to work, yanking a handful of wires out from their sockets and started cutting and crossing the different colored strands together. Within moments the red light above the frozen doors flashed green and a robotic female voice saying "Access Granted" filled the hall.

The smooth whoosh of the doors opening followed and the criminal nearly found himself knocked backward by a harsh wall of cold air that threatened to freeze him right on the spot.

"Fuck…" he managed to blurt out nearly dropping his gun as the paralyzing chills traveled throughout his body. "Jake what the hell did you just do?" he mentally scolded himself as he fell backward and began rubbing his bare arms trying to get them as warm as possible. His efforts did little and by now his teeth were chattering uncontrollably.

Looking in from the outside he appeared to have found a frozen storage room where rows upon rows of chemicals lined the walls. He also found evidence of a previous battle taking place as more frozen corpses littered the floor and near the center of the room, he found two Hunters frozen still due to the extreme temperatures. Not wanting to risk the two creatures coming back to life, he fired a round into both their skulls, panting the white surroundings with a fresh shade of crimson. It was after eliminating the two possible threats that he spotted a set of footprints leading around the frozen critters and around a corner.

"Looks like I have no other choice," Jake told himself looking back to the locked doors behind him and the doors on the sides which appeared secure as well. "Well here goes nothing," he thought taking a few deep breaths and moved as quickly through the room as he could.

The biting chill slowed the man's progress remarkably and the air was all but stolen from his lungs as his internal systems jumped into overdrive trying to heat his body and keep him moving. It was only through the force of human will that kept him going and thinking about the warmth of the outside world helping his feet trudge through the snow-covered surface, turning everything but the exit into a blur around him. After a testing traverse through the frozen storage room he finally found himself at the end where a keycard reader awaited him.

Hoping that one of the cards he had found would work and hoping even further that the room beyond wasn't a frozen cell, he dug into his pack and pulled out the card he had found in Colin Leech's apartment. Using all the remaining strength in his arm he brought the card through the reader, nearly dropping it into the snow below as the muscles in his right hand were becoming increasingly weakened by the below freezing temperatures.

"Access Granted," the robotic female voice called out and the door slid open, revealing another airlock where a rack of insulated hazmat suits lined the wall to his right.

"Thank you," he called out to the mysterious forces watching over him and fell into the small room. Still feeling the chilly air brush against his legs, he saw another control panel above him and quickly brought his foot up, managing to push one of the buttons with the tip of his shoe and was rewarded by the door closing behind him.

"Oh yes," he breathed deeply, pulling him along the floor and burying himself between the insulated suits trying to warm his frozen body. A sudden irritation washed over him as he took note of the suits, "And to think I risked becoming a human Popsicle for nothing…" For a while Jake forgot about the woman he had been chasing and focused on warming his body, feeling relieved as his blood began to warm and return to his appendages. After a few minutes his breathing returned to normal and he remembered he had a task at hand. Rising back to his feet he soon found himself moving through the next door.

Much to his relief, the criminal found himself in a warm office area, but simultaneously it was populated with more of the living dead who stumbled towards him upon sight.

"Trust me; your ugly mug is a welcome sight compared to trudging through below freezing temperatures," Jake spoke to the nearest zombie, a bespectacled older man whose jaw looked ready to fall off at any second. Withdrawing his sword again, he sliced the side of the undead man's head and sent his adversary falling downward, splitting its skull open on the nearest desk.

"That's gonna leave a mark," the criminal sarcastically quipped and focused on two more zombies who came stumbling over scattered debris to reach him. Raising his silenced pistol he fired two shots into their rotting skulls putting them down for good. Another zombie staggered about nearby knocking over a coffee maker and stack of cardboard boxes to get at its prey. Jake responded with a blade to the face and then pushed the zombie backward onto one of its vanquished colleagues. Another moan sounded and he looked down to see an undead female researcher crawling out from underneath the closest desk. With a twirl of his blade, he drove the bloody sword down through her skull.

"Alright, that appears to be the last of them," Jake thought to himself scanning the office, which appeared to be roughly the size of Birkin's P-4 laboratory and littered with the debris of a previous battle. Judging by the financial graphs and bulletin boards, he guesses this was probably some kind of planning or public relations office. There was only one exit from this room and he decided to follow it and see if he could find his target. "She has to be nearby; she couldn't have gotten too far ahead in this madhouse."

More gunfire rang out from beyond the lone door, an occurrence that would have made a lesser person still jump in fear after everything they had been through, but not Jake. The young career criminal only looked towards the door, eyes unblinking like solid steel and holstered his silenced pistol. Knowing his target was armed he withdrew his MP5 and slowly approached the door. He doubted the person would have any backup, but always paid to be prepared and enable him to get the drop much faster.

Jake hugged the wall near the door and cracked it open slightly before kicking it down to find two bodies lying before him, both carrying fresh wounds to their skulls. Two loud cracks came from ahead along with a flash from around the corner as another zombie slumped to the floor. The person he pursued was just a few inches in front of him and still alive! Leaping over the bodies, the criminal bolted down the darkened hall and rounded the corner nearly tripping over a janitorial cart as he spotted the door slamming shut before him.

Throwing the door open, the criminal barely dodged a bullet flying towards his skull, but managed to catch a glimpse of the woman in the white lab coat, now able to make out a full head of short blonde hair flailing in the air behind her. "Not so fast lady," Jake blurted out continuing his pursuit, which now took him through a corpse-filled break room, dashing too quickly to make out what caused their demises, let alone anything else in the room.

The criminal's pursuit eventually led to another back hall where he saw another door closing in front of him and repeated his process hoping to catch the woman before he lost her. He was the Red Dragon and his prey never eluded him and he wasn't about to start right now.

Entering the next room, Jake now found himself in a wide open space that almost resembled some kind of testing chamber. The floor was a sturdy metallic surface covered in numerous bloodstains and the dull gray walls were covered in more bloodstains of all sizes, as well as scratch marks that could have only been made by some of Umbrella's engineered monstrosities. None of that mattered though now that he found what he had come for.

Before him stood a woman in her mid-to-late thirties with short blonde hair, angry blue eyes and an even more vicious scowl design to bewilder those beneath her, but having no effect on Jake and his solid mental defense. Attached to her white lab coat was an Umbrella ID badge which read "Annette Birkin."

"Annette Birkin," Jake said aloud reading the nametag.

"Yes," the woman blankly replied and raised her handgun, a Browning HP, "and just who the hell do you think you are?" she demanded with an authoritative bark.

"My name is of no concern to you lady!" Jake shot back thinking there was no way in Hell he would give out his real name, or even alias to an Umbrella employee of all people after everything he had been through.

"Is that so," she arrogantly retorted, trying to maintain her icy disposition for the stranger. "Well I would expect no less from an unfamiliar face like you, so you must be one of them."

"I have no clue what the hell you're talking about. Just who the hell are "them" that you speak of?" Jake said shaking his head briefly.

"Oh don't play dumb with me you murderous bastard!" she shouted with newfound vigor, "I know who you are! You're another spy sent by the company to retrieve my husband's work, aren't you?"

"Heh, I could give two fucks less about your husband's work that you speak of, but now that you mention this husband of yours I now see that you are Annette Birkin, and if I'm not mistaken, your husband is William Birkin is he not?" Jake demanded never backing down from the unstable woman.

"My you sure have done your homework, Mister. Yes, my husband was William Birkin, a brilliant and dignified man striving to take this company's research into the new millennium, but how do they repay him for his countless years of hard work? They murder him in cold blood and take what is rightfully his!" the woman shouted again, all her pent up rage and frustration finally emerging. "Just what kind of business do you have with my husband you butchering savage?"

"Let's just say your husband is an old "acquaintance" of mine and I need to see him immediately," Jake spoke in a calm, collected tone, choosing his words as carefully as he could. "I knew him from a few years back and I heard of the recent goings-on in the city. I figured I would come and see him immediately and figure out what was going on. It's an important matter to the both of us."

"Liar!" the woman screamed thrusting her gun further towards the criminal, "You lying bastard! Your people have already slaughtered the man I love and now they've sent you in to finish the job!"

"Jeez lady, what the fuck are you talking about?" Jake retorted, still playing dumb with her. He knew right out she was probably talking about the G-Virus he had been hearing so much about, which was of no interest to him. His only concern was to track down and eliminate William Birkin once and for all.

"I told you not to play dumb with me you bastard!" the woman screamed again, tears now forming at the corners of her aggrieved blue eyes, "I swear to God I'll shoot you where you stand for everything your people have done to me!"

With her free hand the woman reached into one of her lab coat's pockets and pulled out a foot-long cigar-shaped tube filled with a purple liquid and displayed it for the criminal. "This is the G-Virus your people have been after, my husband's life's work, the very work your foot soldiers murdered him for. Your men infiltrated this very complex and left him to die because you wanted it all for your greedy selves," the woman spoke staring intently at the vial, the rage building up with every word.

"If it makes you happy lady, I don't work for Umbrella! I was only in this town for a couple days when this mess started. I had nothing to do with it and nor did I know anything of the company's illegal activities until this outbreak occurred. As far as I'm concerned, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!" Jake defiantly returned, telling the truth for once during his stay in the infected necropolis.

"I don't believe you for a second," Annette shot back, her aim never wavering on the mysterious man who stood before her. "For all I know, you've probably come to kill me and claim the last known sample of the G-Virus! You will never get your hands on it and I will shoot you where you stand if I have to!"

"Looks like this lady won't listen to reason," Jake thought to himself, "I might have to shoot her dead along with her husband," his eye focused slightly on the MP5 he held in steady hands. "I'd probably be doing little Sherry a favor too. Having to be raised by an overbearing psycho like that is hard enough for any child to endure. I know all too well from personal experience."

"Don't think I won't!" the disturbed woman shouted, her hand trembling wildly as she waved it in the man's direction, "Your bastard employers have taken everything from me! I'll fucking kill you if I have to; send a message to those heartless bastards! Cortlandt…Warwick…Reston…I'll kill all of those fuckers too if I have to!" she screamed hysterically, itchy finger on the trigger.

"You'd better back the fuck off lady, don't think I won't ventilate your psycho ass if I have to!" Jake spoke, lowering his tone sinisterly as he trained his aim on the woman's chest.

CLANK!

The two survivors temporarily shifted their focus to the room's ceiling, where a deep imprint appeared in one of the tiles. Another clanking noise rang out and another imprint followed, looking like it was made by the claws of a very large monster. Could Birkin have resurrected again and sniffed him out?

"Is it him?" the woman quietly asked, the pistol nearly falling from her hand.

The clanking noises and imprints continued until the ceiling tile finally gave way and another beast landed before them.

"Something uglier…" Jake muttered staring at the new beast standing before him. This new monster was roughly the same size as the Hunters he had encountered before and carried the stooped posture; it was there the similarities ended. This new creature looked more amphibian than its reptilian counterpart with a frog's head, black beady eyes and webbed feet ending with sharp talons.

"You bastards get uglier and uglier," the career criminal said furrowing his brow at the new adversary.

The new breed of Hunter standing before him only stared before throwing back its head and letting out a terrible cry that could only be described as its way of croaking like a normal frog. Dropping from the hole in the ceiling, two more of its kind appeared, croaking in unison with their brother, a hideous cacophony that had him raising his gun right away.

TATATATATATATATATATATATATAT!

Jake wasted no time firing upon his enemies, taking down the first to appear in a hail that ripped apart its large mouth. The two other Hunters leapt away at the rattle of gunfire and took positions on opposite sides of the large room.

Annette Birkin gasped silently in horror at the sight of the aquatic-based versions of the MA-121, the "Hunter Gamma" as they were referred to and fell backwards against the wall, unaware she had just fallen against the reinforced door leading to a control room that looked upon the testing area from behind a bulletproofed two-way mirror. Fortunately for her, the door only required a swipe of her ID card and she quickly stood up sliding it through the card reader. The familiar "Access Granted" called out and she was admitted into the room, the door sliding shut behind her.

Quickly working the controls, the Umbrella researcher managed to work the cameras and equipment used to monitor the subject's vital statistics. "We'll see just how long you last you soulless piece of shit!"

One of the Hunters nearly torpedoed itself at the career criminal with claws extended, forcing him to fall back to the blood-soaked floor. Before he could roll over, its brother was nearly on top of him driving its claws towards his face. Jake rolled to the side and dodged the claws, sparks flying onto him as the blade-like objects struck the metal floor where his head once rested. Quickly kicking his feet out, he knocked back one of the monsters and fired a round into its knee, sending it limping backwards in a screaming fury.

Kipping back up to his feet, the criminal was met by a set of claws slashing against his back and ripping a large chunk out of his shirt, sending him back down to the floor. Feeling his back, he could feel a large set of gashes made in his vest and deep indentations beneath the fabric. The impact made him feel like he had been struck by a club, but he was still alive to feel it. Once again his Kevlar vest had saved his life.

Jake said nothing and trained his MP5 on the attacking Hunter, ripping apart its chest with a barrage of hot lead before delivering a final shot to its forehead, sending it crumpling to the floor not far from its brother. The remaining Hunter he had wounded earlier still limped in the distance, trying to leap at him, but remained grounded as a result of its injury and landed awkwardly at his feet. Using what remained of his current clip, he ended the bio-weapon's life in a white hot fury.

"Not so fast!" the woman called out over an intercom.

Whirling around the career criminal found another door and a two-way mirror that Annette was no doubt hiding behind. Raising his pistol again, he fired three shots into the mirror, only to have them harmlessly bounce off. "Bulletproof glass, can't you morons even fight halfway decent?"

"Your problems are far from over," Annette's icy tone rang out from the adjacent control room, "You will not escape this facility alive!"

Looking around suspiciously for any possible traps, he kept his gun trained for any more monsters that would probably leap out from the woodwork. "Bring it on you icy bitch!" he thought to himself staring hatefully towards the two-way mirror, where Mrs. Birkin was probably cackling madly to herself thinking at what she would probably do to him, still thinking that he was one of the men behind her husband's demise.

A loud metallic clicking noise rang out and a second later, the floor gave way beneath Jake's feet, dropping him into a dark abyss below.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After what seemed like only seconds, Jake Cavanaugh awoke in a rancid, crowded mess, pain shooting throughout his body as he struggled to sit up, only sliding further back into the trash heap when things collapsed beneath him.

Just seconds earlier he had been in some kind of testing chamber face to face with the gun-toting widow of William Birkin. The woman was on the edge of her sanity and probably would have tried to put a bullet in him had it not been for the timely intervention of that new breed of Hunter. After a quick, but risky battle, the criminal had managed to defeat the three attacking beasts, but the lapse in concentration had cost him and enabled Annette to slip into a nearby control room and activate the trapdoor bringing him to where he was now.

"Not as bad as some of the other shit I've been through so far…" Jake said aloud until he looked over and found a corpse. It was that of a younger researcher displaying several deep gashes all over his torso and limbs, probably having died from excessive blood loss. Next to the man was the upper torso of a woman dressed in surgical scrubs and not too far from her was another man dressed like one of the dead commandos found in the sewers, large gashes in his chest exposing the vital organs beneath. Looking amongst the trash he continued to find more corpses, all displaying large gashes on their bodies and missing limbs. Perhaps he had been dropped into some kind of dumping area used for disposing of previous test subjects.

"Looks like I spoke too soon," he spoke again to himself studying the rusty walls of his surroundings, assuming he was probably inside some large trash compactor that could go off at any minute and needed to find a way out. Past another heap of decaying bodies, he spotted a haphazard stack of rotting wooden crates with a blood splattered folding table atop them. "Don't wanna know where the hell that came from, but it might be my only way out," Jake thought carefully stepping around any bodies in his path and trudging through garbage up to his knees.

Testing the strength of the bottom crate, the criminal carefully hefted himself onto it and reached for the next crate and so forth. "Almost there," he grunted as the table now stood just above him and he reached for the crate beneath it, only to hear the cracking of wood beneath him. One of the decaying crates was giving out beneath him and he would have to get out fast. To his left he saw that he was just beneath the catwalk ledge and above it was a solid guardrail that would be able to support his weight.

With a loud grunt, Jake heaved himself upward and caught the edge of the catwalk, the tower he previously ascended collapsing beneath him in an earth-shattering clatter that probably resounded through the bowels of the facility. "Ugh…come on…" he murmured until he finally caught hold of the bottom support rail.

"Hey, did you hear that?" another voice called out, one that almost sounded robotic.

"Shit!" Jake whispered loudly knowing that someone else was nearby, someone who probably didn't have the best intentions.

Two men clad in bulky black combat gear and wearing gas masks emerged from a nearby hall. In their hands they carried M-4 assault rifles with flashlight attachments cutting swathes of light through the dimly-lit area, moving so quietly on soft-soled boots they must have been made of velvet. The glowing red lenses of their thermal-imaging goggles made them look as if they were demons sent from Hell, acting as harbingers of death and destruction.

"Search the entire area. Whatever caused that loud crash must be nearby," one of the commandos ordered, shining his light down into the trash compactor.

"Maybe they dropped something that wasn't quite dead after all," the second soldier nearly chuckled. "Must be a dumping area for their failed experiments, although I doubt any of those T-Virus carriers would be capable of causing something like that, unless…do you think maybe it's another one of those Hunter Gammas we just encountered?"

The second trooper waved his light around the trash compactor searching hurriedly for any signs of viral carriers or other B.O.W. creatures while the first stood quietly next to him.

"I don't know and if it is, I don't want to find out," the first soldier reported and then walked over to a control panel. "We'll make sure nothing rises out of this mess," and with those words, activated the compactor.

The loud drone of the ancient compactor filled the room and the two troopers watched patiently as the walls closed in on each other followed by the lid coming down sealing the compactor from the outside.

"Alright, now that we've got that taken care of, I want a full sweep of the area. Once we've got this area cleared, we report back to Gaines. We've gotta be quick too, command is about ready to pull out."

"Affirmative, commencing full-scale sweep," the second trooper reported beginning his rounds.

Shining his light over every possible inch of the surrounding environment, the second commando conducted a thorough search hoping to eliminate its target. The commandos were under "shoot on sight" orders and authorized to kill anything deemed necessary by command.

"Come on out you little bastard…" the commando growled darting his light back and forth, "You have a choice, we can make this quick and painless, or I chop off all your limbs and leave you to slowly bleed to death," the man chuckled patting the large combat knife he carried.

BAM!

The sound of an object striking metal rang out and the commando whirled around, pointing his gun into a shadowy alcove only to find nothing.

"What the hell was that?" he asked reaching down for his radio.

"Me!"

Before the commando could react, Jake leapt out from his hiding place and using the tattered remnants of his favorite shirt as a makeshift rope, wrapped it around the man's neck and dragged him back into the shadows.

Keeping the tattered shirt wrapped tightly around the man's neck, he pressed his knee against the man's upper back to apply pressure and withdrew his silenced pistol.

"Alright, who are you and who the fuck are you working for?" Jake hissed, keeping his pistol pressed tightly against the man's head. He slightly loosened his grip to let the man speak, but tightly enough it would only come out as a ragged gasp.

"Go to hell!" the man wheezed, earning a pistol whip upside the head from the career criminal.

"Tell me who you're working for and what your business is here and maybe I might consider letting you go…alive," Jake demanded, his voice becoming a vicious wolf-like growl.

"Never!" the soldier shouted and drove his elbow into the criminal's stomach, unaware of the Kevlar vest which absorbed the blow.

Jake only slightly grunted from the hit and fired a round into the man's shoulder, letting him scream once in agony before firing an additional three shots into the back of the man's skull.

The now deceased trooper's radio suddenly crackled to life, "Hearn, are you there? I heard a scream, are you alright? Pick up!"

The career criminal looked up to see the beam of the other commando's flashlight getting dangerously close to him and he quickly retreated back into the shadows. Shining brightly, the light managed to catch a glimpse of the fallen trooper and within seconds the man's comrade was rushing to his aid.

"Oh shit, Hearn!" the other commando shouted running up to the deceased trooper and nudging the stiff body with his boot. The trooper reached down for his radio when Jake made his next move.

"Don't think so, buddy!"

Jake emerged from the shadows with combat knife in hand, grabbing the soldier from behind. With a flick of his wrist, the man fell over with a deep gash in his throat.

"Who the hell are these people?" Jake asked kneeling over and examining the two corpses. "They look exactly like those bodies I found down in the sewers. Could these be some of the troops that one doctor mentioned back in the staff quarters?" he wondered quietly as he searched them for any signs of ID. "If they are, then they'll certainly be gunning for me once they see I've wasted two of their boys."

Jake pocketed the combat knife he got from the second commando and then searched both of their corpses, finding extra ammo for his silenced pistol and an M-4 assault rifle with six clips of ammo between both men. "Damn, I'm gonna need a larger rucksack, and a new shirt," he remarked staring at the tattered remnants of his former shirt, which remained wrapped around the throat of the second commando. "I'll worry about that later, time to go."

Jake let the M-4 hang around his shoulder as he raised his MP5 keeping it trained in front of him. All the weapons he carried now made him feel like he was some sort of moving gun shop and would have weighed a smaller person down, but the career criminal was a tall, muscular man used to carrying heavy loads and wouldn't be fazed one bit. Besides, chances were there were still other survivors lurking about that would be on his side and he would deal them with the necessary weaponry if need be.

Exiting the compactor room, the criminal found himself moving down the same hall the two commandos entered from and was then in another large room, this one filled with numerous tanks containing miscellaneous chemicals. On the level below he spotted a few live zombies still wandering about standing tall over several of their dispatched brethren. A gunshot rang out and one of the zombies fell over dead, followed by another and the process repeated.

From above, a lone commando fired down upon the zombies with his M-4, shooting at them randomly as if he were playing some kind of carnival game.

"Ha ha! Take that you rotting bastards!" the commando shouted loading a fresh clip into his rifle. "Keep bringing it on, there's more where that came from!" he shouted and fired a few more rounds, taking down the zombies below with perfect headshots. "I'd better find out how Treverson and Hearn are doing, I haven't heard from either of them in a while," he said and pulled out his radio, "Treverson, Hearn, are you there? Either one of you, pick up!"

"Your buddies are dead," Jake spoke from behind and cocked his MP5 submachine gun.

The commando instantly whirled around and brought his rifle to eye level. "You!" the man shouted, almost like he knew him.

"Yeah, now do you mind telling me just what the hell you are doing here, or am I going to have to force it out of you?" Jake asked, smirking to his adversary.

"You…you killed them didn't you?" the commando asked, rage building in his voice.

"So what if I did? They were hunting me first; I'd say I had every right to defend myself. How can I be certain you and your boy scouts haven't killed anybody else around here?"

"You're going down you piece of shit!" the commando shouted and fired a quick torrent of lead in Jake's direction, forcing him to leap behind a metal crate for cover.

This proved to be the man's last action as a giant amphibian – or "Hunter Gamma" as the commandos referred to them as – leapt down from the rafters and landed right behind the commando. The hapless man barely had time to react as the mutated frog opened its giant mouth, scooped him up and swallowed him whole.

The man's muffled cries lasted no more than five seconds before silencing for good. Brief lumps pulsed from the creature's stomach as if the man was trying to fight his way out, but the man's efforts ended and with one giant snap, the hellish mouth closed.

With its beady eyes, the frog-like creature focused its attention on Jake, who stood unmoved by its freakish appearance and stared it down defiantly, training his weapon on the beast.

Its throat swelling, a deep croak burst from its wide mouth and like a super-powered version of its relatives, the creature leapt high into the air ready to land on the criminal below him.

Raising his gun in rapid succession, Jake fired a barrage into the creature's stomach and brought it down with a dreadful screech, landing shoulder first onto a metal crate followed by the snapping of bone. The wounded beast lay shrieking on the metal catwalk, limbs flailing in all directions still trying to attack its human adversary.

Keeping a safe distance, Jake fired four additional rounds into the dying creature's skull, the monster giving a dying croak as the last bullet destroyed one of its eyes. "Play dead freak," said the criminal, "I dissected enough of you back in Biology, good to brush up on a subject I actually somewhat enjoyed back in high school."

Searching for any more threats, the room appeared to be clear and he decided to move on. In the back corner was another hallway that he would explore.

The career criminal was greeted by the aftermath of another battle in the foyer, where the white walls were stitched with bullet holes and drenched in blood. More shot up corpses were present, three of researchers and the other two security guards. They had been stripped of what ammo and valuable items they probably carried. To his right Jake found a small security office with the windows shot out, a dead guard lying in a corner and several control panels shot up. Fresh blood dripped from an opened vent nearby, prompting him to keep his MP5 raised. When nothing happened he returned his attention to the other rooms.

Other doors in the hall led to an employee break room, maintenance room and locker room. With it being closest he decided to check out the locker room first.

Inside, the room was a mess with many of the lockers pried open and some of their contents spilling onto the floor. More dried puddles of blood were present on the tiled floor, but no bodies in sight. Rounding a corner, Jake stopped as he happened across one of the opened lockers and a rare smiled crossed his features.

"Glad to see somebody around here shares my fashion sense." In the locker was a fresh pair of black cargo pants, black leather trench coat and a black t-shirt, this one with a skull and crossbones design. "Not as good as my old t-shirt, but still a wicked design," he mused happily as he removed the articles and searched for the bathroom area. As he removed the trench coat, a pair of Lucky Spade cigarettes fell from one of the pockets.

"Ugh, I'd rather be disemboweled by one of those Hunters than smoke myself to death," Jake grunted stomping on the fresh pack. If there was one thing other than the constant decay of Raccoon City that grossed him out, it was cigarette smoke, having been previous incidents where he had beaten people up when they refused to go smoke somewhere else. "Too bad I couldn't have been sent after some tobacco executives," he chuckled to himself making his way to the shower area.

In the bathroom area he found another researcher who had been shot to death. Nodding respectfully, Jake closed the stall door so no one would have to look at him. He then cleaned himself up at the sinks careful to avoid tampering with his bandages, which he would soon have to change. After cleaning himself up, the criminal emptied his pants pockets and threw his old tattered pair into the nearest trashcan before changing into his new clothes.

"At least something is halfway back to normal," Jake spoke, admiring his new clothes in the mirror, looking just the way he did when he first came to Raccoon City.

Inspecting the maintenance and employee break rooms, he found nothing of use aside from getting himself a quick meal in the latter. Reaching through one of the shattered windows and unlocking the door, Jake was now back at the security quarters. Nothing of use could be found in the lockers and the weapons rack had been stripped dry, as well as the nearby storage chest. No doubt there were more commandos present than the three he had just encountered and he would have to keep his guard up.

The control panel next to him had been a shot up mess, but he saw that several monitors were still functional and could contain information on the possible whereabouts of Birkin, his wife or his other travel companions.

Most of the images he saw displayed the aftermath of a full-scale T-Virus rampage with lengthy corridors, break rooms and large laboratories either littered with corpses or teeming with mutants created by the sinister virus. Jake managed to locate a few surviving researchers running for their lives or security personnel mounting one brave last stand against the living dead, however those images only displayed their last moments as the survivors were quickly overwhelmed and sent to their gruesome deaths. Searching further through the seemingly endless amount of cameras located around the facility, he finally saw an image that made him stop and take notice.

In the facility's main power station, Claire Redfield was fighting for her life, and that of Sherry Birkin, who cowered behind the young woman as they were approached by the behemoth known as Mr. X.

Claire stood her ground defiantly as she fired round after explosive round into the approaching giant's chest, rounding corners as it walked towards her showing no emotion. The woman was in desperate need of assistance and didn't have much time left.

"Shit…just where is she at?" Jake thought to himself. The camera feed said that she was located in the main power room and strategically placed to the left of the panels he found several maps and began running his finger down the listings and where they were located.

"Let's see what we've got here…Helipad…Archives…Viral Research…Frozen Storage…Dormitories…Cafeteria…Administration…Sewage Disposal…Underground Transport Station…" he mumbled aloud until his finger crossed what he was looking for. "Ha, Power Station, Level B-4!" he shouted and traced the location, "Looks like I've found my next destination."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Sherry, get back now!" Claire Redfield shouted to the little girl behind her. Turning back, the golem she referred to as "Mr. X" continued its unflinching stride towards her, no evidence of fear found on its granite features as it stared down the barrel of an M-79 grenade launcher.

Hefting the weapon high, Claire fired an acidic round into the monster's neck, the beast only staggering slightly making no sound to indicate whether it was in pain or angry. Firing another round into its face, she took off around the corner where little Sherry knelt down with arms over her head. The little girl looked up to her, blue eyes wide with horror as she saw the young woman running towards her.

"It's no dying Claire! What are we going to do?" she shouted frantically as the giant's ecliptic shadow enveloped the path her companion emerged from.

"We have to get out of here now," Claire ordered, grabbing the young girl by the arm bringing her back to her feet.

Young Claire Redfield had been traveling through the labs and entered a control room where she was confronted by a gun-toting Annette Birkin, Sherry's mother. Demanding to know her daughter's whereabouts, their answer was found when they looked to a nearby monitor to find the young girl being chased by the seemingly invincible colossus.

Here she was now fighting for both hers and Sherry's survival as they were stalked by their adversary, its purpose unknown. She was getting dangerously low on rounds for her grenade launcher and her handgun ammo was nearly depleted, down to her last clip. It would take some kind of miracle for her to bring the beast down and she was hoping it came fast.

"Please Claire; I can't go on much longer! We have to get out of here!" Sherry shouted back to her on the verge of tears and looking ready to collapse at any second.

For the past two days Claire had bonded with the 12 year old girl, becoming much like a surrogate mother to her in such a short period of time. Despite her tomboyish nature, Claire possessed a soft spot in her heart for children and she was determined to get this innocent little girl out of this nightmare no matter what, even if she had to carry her out on her own back.

"Come on Sweetie, there's still a chance you can do it!" the woman shouted back trying to sound as encouraging as possible.

By now Mr. X had appeared in the path they were on and was closing the gap with his lengthy strides. Seeing how close he was, Claire stopped again to fire more acid rounds at the approaching giant.

"You're not killing any more innocents you bastard! Not now, not ever!" Claire defiantly screamed at the approaching behemoth and fired another round.

The round only knocked the giant slightly backward and it still continued forth with the same soulless gaze that would haunt her for a long time after this nightmare ended. If she was going to die, then she would die fighting. The only downside would be that there would be nobody left to defend Sherry, unless she were to happen across Leon, her mother or maybe even some other fortunate survivor with good intentions.

Claire reached into her side pack again and pulled out two more acidic shells, cursing silently as she realized they were her last two of that kind. "Damn, I'm still doing well on explosive shells, but after those are up I only have four more napalm and no more acid. I'm gonna be screwed once this is up and I doubt 9mm. bullets will drop this freak."

Looking up again, the young woman nearly fainted. Mr. X now stood tall over her having closed the gap in only a matter of seconds. Drawing its hand back the creature was prepared to strike and would certainly crush her skull like it was nothing.

"Sherry…" was her last though.

TATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATAT!

Claire opened her eyes expecting to find the pearly white gates of Heaven standing before her, instead she found Mr. X jolting before her as a torrent of hot lead ripped its back apart. Turning around, the beast was met with more rounds to it face and chest, knocking it backward and forcing Claire to leap out of the way.

Much to her relief, she found Jake Smith standing there with MP5 in hand, firing away fearlessly at her stalker.

"Jake, you made it!" she shouted over the popping rounds, unable to contain her glee.

"You looked like you needed a helping hand," he shouted back loading in a fresh clip, "I figured since I was passing through I might as well make myself useful. I owe you one for saving me from this freak back at the station anyway!"

Pulling back the bolt on his submachine gun, Jake resumed his assault on the giant, who had now diverted its attention from the two females.

"Come on," Claire said grabbing Sherry by the arm again and racing down the path. They ran down a path and got near a lift where Jake stood feet away from them firing upon the beast.

"Oh my god Jake, come on!" Sherry called out trying to rush towards Jake, but held back by Claire. "Come on Jake, you can't stop that thing! We have to get out of here!"

"Hey kid," Jake shouted back flashing a brief smile to the girl, "Listen to Claire and get out of here now!"

"No! Not without you!" Sherry shouted towards him and tried to escape Claire's grip, who was now struggling to hold her back by the wrist.

"Sherry no don't!" Claire shouted again trying to hold the young girl back and tugged harder, finally winning the tug of war.

As little Sherry was yanked backwards, the pendant around her neck came loose and clattered to the metallic walkway, opening up to reveal the family portrait of her and her parents from happier times.

Jake continued to fire away at the pursuing Tyrant until his clip ran dry and he was forced to reload, but not before he found Mr. X standing tall above him. "Shit!" he grunted as he rolled underneath a powerful backhand swing and rolled back expecting the mutant to continue its assault, but strangely it did not.

"What the hell?" the criminal asked and found out what was going on.

Mr. X completely ignored him and continued towards the two women. Upon further watch, he saw that the Tyrant was walking towards the pendant that belonged to Sherry.

Rushing towards her treasured possession, Sherry quickly scooped it up and was about to make her way back towards Claire when she was forced to duck underneath a swipe from the towering brute. The action then clicked within Claire's mind.

"Help me Claire!" Sherry shrieked as the giant stepped towards her drawing its hand back again.

"He's after your pendant! The sample's inside!" Claire shouted outstretching her hand.

"What sample?" Sherry asked dumbfounded.

"Must be another sample of the G-Virus Annette was talking about," Jake thought to himself as he saw Mr. X continuing its pursuit of the little girl.

"Please, there's no time to explain! Trust me; you have to get rid of it!" Claire urgently pleaded with the child, "Quick, toss it to me!"

Reluctantly, Sherry tossed the gold pendant to Claire, who caught it in one fluid motion. True enough, the Tyrant took its attention away from Sherry and now focused on Claire, who ran towards the railing and looked down into a vat of scorching lava below.

"Here, catch!" Claire shouted and with a powerful throw tossed the pendant down into the vat of molten lava below.

Ignoring the three survivors entirely, the giant dove over the railing and sailed into the lava below, vanishing beneath the surface as quietly as it came.

Jake, Claire and Sherry ran over to the railing and searched for any sign of the beast.

"Is he gone for good?" Sherry asked worriedly, who until now Jake did not notice her wearing what had been Claire's "Made in Heaven" vest.

"I don't know…" Claire replied.

Jake opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the massive sparks traveling up the electric panels across from them. "What the hell?" he asked again. A low rumble was heard and within seconds the room began to shake. The criminal tried to reach for the little girl, but from behind them a large beam fell and created a gap between him and his two companions.

"Jake!" Claire shouted and tried to look around the beam, but was stopped abruptly as debris began raining down from the ceiling.

"Get Sherry and get out of here now!" he shouted over the rumble.

"But -"

"Just do it!" Jake ordered, "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine! Just worry about getting Sherry out of here!"

The debris continued to fall and soon he could hear the groaning of the platform giving out beneath him. Looking around hurriedly for an exit, he looked behind to find another airlock door and charged towards it, the platform collapsing behind him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Annette Birkin sat at her workstation typing away furiously at the panel before her, determined to find whatever information she could.

"Come on, there has to be something on those two people out there!" she shouted to no one in particular.

Right now she was focused on gathering information on two mysterious individuals she had encountered during her stay underground. The first was that mysterious man in black she had just dropped into the compactor below. For some odd reason that fellow looked familiar and she wanted to know where she had seen his face before.

The other person was that woman in the red dress, Ada Wong, John Fay's girlfriend and the same bitch who had nearly knocked her to her death. How she survived her fall the researcher had no idea, but right now all that mattered was digging up the dirt that could give her an edge over her newfound enemy.

A loud beeping was heard from the computer and she brought up a window she had previously been looking at that now had some information found.

"Alright, let's see who you people really are," Annette spoke in a firm, calculating tone as she typed in a few commands and brought up a window displaying all known information about Ada Wong.

"Ada Wong…" she spoke lowering her tone into an indiscernible jumble as she read the dossier concerning the mystery woman. A sadistic smile spread across the blonde-haired woman's features and she could barely prevent herself from chuckling aloud. "Fay you gullible fool!" she sneered pitilessly jotting the information down on a nearby pad of paper.

The next window was displayed, this one containing the mysterious man's vital statistics and background information. "Now isn't this a surprise!" she laughed in a mocking tone, "Seems we've got ourselves one very shady visitor after all!" she chuckled and hit the "Print" button on her toolbar, printing out something she hoped to use to her advantage later on.

"Don't think I don't know you didn't come alone, "Mr. Smith." I'm sure your friends will be delighted to hear what you have to say."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake was alone once again, now maneuvering his way through a darkened corridor, illuminated only by the beam of his flashlight attachment and the flashing klaxons in the adjoining lab. He currently passed a Viral Research lab where more zombies pressed against the bulletproofed windows clawing away trying to get at him, but were thankfully restrained by the hermetically sealed vault.

They were one sight he would be happy to forget once he escaped, but had the horrors he endured over the past four days become so ingrained in his mind they would be impossible to forget? The criminal vowed that he would not be broken by the horrors he witnessed and hoped that his iron will would hold through long enough for him to make it out in one piece physically, but mentally was a different story.

"Come on Jake, you are the master. You control yourself, not your emotions," he assured himself. Emotions were not something that could be controlled, but then again the career criminal had never been a normal person to begin with. "Besides, if I crack, they'll probably execute me before they commit me," he thought to himself, another incentive to make it out of this mess with his mind in one piece.

The criminal rounded another corner in the never-ending maze, where he found another corpse in a yellow lab coat and green pants lying facedown on the ground. Finding a piece of concrete lying nearby, he picked it up and tossed it at the prone body. When the corpse didn't jerk, he knew it was truly dead and walked past it. Upon closer look, he found it was a bullet through the chest that had ended the researcher's life. "At least you died with your humanity intact."

Thinking of how someone in this madness actually died a normal human made him ponder the possible widespread reach of the T-Virus and if he was infected or not. So far he only knew that the virus was communicable through bites and scratches from an infected party, other than that there were no other known ways to transmit the deadly manmade virus. The only other possible ways he could think of were through the local water supply and airborne.

A few days back while assisting the outbreak survivors who had escaped from J's Bar, Jake had been forced to dive into a nearby canal to avoid an exploding oil tanker. While his head was briefly submerged he had swallowed some of the water into his system. The sewers beneath the station were infested with creatures in advanced mutation, probably one of the major starting points of the outbreak.

Jake also took note of the number of infected present within the research facility. Could it be possible that the virus was transmitted through the air and caused half the staff to mutate? Maybe the virus was still in the air and as he moved it entered his system, eroding his insides and slowly transforming him into one of the living dead.

If he were infected, he looked down to his MP5 and knew what he would have to do. Dying wasn't so bad compared to wandering the earth as one of the living dead and he knew right away which option he would choose.

"I'll fucking die before I allow any of those bastards to sink their teeth into me," he said quietly to himself as he happened across another corpse lying facedown, which suddenly began to twitch with life as it heard his footsteps pounding against the metal floor.

Jake shook his head to the reanimated researcher, who now raised its head and let out a low moan. Leveling his gun to the zombie's head, he pulled the trigger and a loud gunshot echoed throughout the shadowy corridor.

"Huh? What was that?" the criminal asked suddenly perking his ears up.

A frightened murmur was heard in the distance, too far away to discern the gender. Whipping his gun around, Jake found the hall behind him lit from a corner by a tiny red bulb and from around a corner he noticed more movement. Judging by the speed he guessed it was a human.

"Alright, no more fun and games! Show yourself at once or else I'm putting a bullet in your fucking head, no questions asked. Now come here!" he shouted to the shadowy figure.

The figure initially stood still, but then began walking towards him and broke out into a small run, forcing him to level his MP5 at the approaching figure's head.

"Alright, you've come far enough! Slow down and walk towards me!" Jake barked at the unseen figure, who gave a small sigh and now walked slowly towards him.

"J-Jake…Jake?"

Author's Note: Alright folks this wraps up my latest installment of "Darkness Arises." From reading the RE2 guidebook, I know in Claire's B scenario that when Mr. X dives into the vat of molten lava after Sherry's pendant, that's pretty much what triggers the self-destruct sequence. For the sake of my story, that does not happen here. Tune in for the next installment where some old friends return. Once again, this is E-Z B saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	37. Chapter 32: Bittersweet Reunion

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Chapter 32: Bittersweet Reunion

That voice, a voice he recognized. Its feminine tone usually sharp and assertive was now unsure, but yet hopeful at the same time.

"Oh my god…could it be?" the figure now revealed as a woman asked as it continued to walk towards Jake and was now gradually making her way into the light.

Stepping slowly towards the criminal, the glow revealed her once elegant red suit, which was now covered in filth and many tears. Hanging in the woman's hand was a Franchi SPAS-12 assault shotgun which had one of its major parts damaged, rendering it completely useless. A small smile suddenly cross Jake's facial features as the woman stepped further into the light, definitely somebody he knew.

The woman now stood fully bathed in the brilliant light, her short, stylishly cut blonde hair matted with sweat and filth, but yet her face remained untouched. Her usual scowl was replaced by a look of shock as her mouth hung wide open, and then happiness as her mouth formed a smile.

"Alyssa?" Jake asked, for once genuinely surprised to see a familiar face standing before him.

"Holy shit! Jake, it really is you!" Alyssa Ashcroft shouted dropping the shotgun and running towards him. Caring about nothing else, the reporter threw her arms around his shoulders wrapping him in a tight embrace, a move considered totally out of character for the icy reporter who seemed to bicker endlessly with the other survivors from what he remembered.

"Uh hey, I'm glad to see you too…" Jake replied patting the woman's lower back gently, still unsure of what to make of her sudden change in character. "What's up with you, lady? The last time I saw you, you were bitching at everything that moved and dead set on getting your Pulitzer, now you're all friendly and loving." The criminal quickly dismissed any suspicious ideas, believing that she was just genuinely grateful to see another human being alive and well.

As quickly as she latched onto him, the reporter pushed herself away and muttered a quick apology looking down uneasily to the floor. Hoping to avoid explanations, she reached down for the damaged shotgun and looked it over before removing some remaining shells from the chamber and slid them into a brown backpack. It was there Jake took note of the brown knapsack strapped to the woman's back and noticed that it was Yoko Suzuki's bag.

"What are you doing down here?" Jake asked looking the woman over closely observing the filth that covered everywhere but her face.

"I could ask you the same thing, how you made it down to this secret lab of all places? I'd ask more, but I don't know if we have much time to sit around here for a coffee clutch," Alyssa spoke, checking through the backpack and dropping the remaining shells inside, "We'd better find a more secure place to talk further, if even such a place exists right now."

Jake looked down to the corpse of the researcher and then thought of the zombies in the nearby lab. "You're right, we'd better get moving if you wanna live long enough to get that Pulitzer you were fretting about the last time I saw you."

"I see you remember well," Alyssa said tugging on the pack, "And I'm not fretting as much as you think. I know we are sitting on top of a major scoop here that could very well mean the downfall of an international corporation with plenty of skeletons in their closet. That certainly is Pulitzer material right there."

"I'd say, just as long as it's something to put these fuckers out of business for good," Jake spoke walking alongside the investigative reporter down the corridor.

"Believe me, I've seen my fair share of bullshit down here to the point where I don't care if a few slobs are left without jobs in the end," Alyssa spoke with an air of disgust, "Umbrella has been behind this crap all along, now I know those S.T.A.R.S. members weren't joking around or high on anything when they came back from the Spencer Estate. Then again, nobody wants to believe that such things could occur."

"Amen to that, I sure as hell didn't believe the walking dead could exist before I came to this shithole," Jake replied, thinking of how he had foolishly believed that zombies could only exist in the horror movies until he first came to Raccoon City. Now, he not only dealt with the living dead, but giant ape-like reptilians, mutated insects and other horrors that had no business belonging in the real world.

"Raccoon City was a shithole long before you came," Alyssa responded assuring, "Umbrella controlling practically everything and forcing a bunch of mom and pop joints out of business, beautiful forests being cleared out for housing developments, a fat corrupted pig as police chief, political scandals covered up by Mayor Warren's administration…I could go on and on," she explained as they approached another airlock door.

Jake brought his hand up, "Hold up, I'll scout ahead." The career criminal entered another dimly lit hall where several of the ceiling tiles had been ripped away; exposing the live electrical wires above, one of which continued to jolt through a researcher pinned on the ground. The power box was nearby and he pulled down the switch, blacking out the entire hall. Switching on his gun-mounted flashlight he saw nothing else that appeared to be of any threat and returned to the waiting reporter. "You coming or what?" he asked keeping his eyes focused on the hallway ahead.

"Okay, but you'd better give me a damned better weapon if we're gonna be traveling through the darkness," Alyssa demanded, sounding a bit more like her old self. "One of those damned lizards broke my shotgun before I met up with you again. All I've got now is my Beretta and my stun gun, and I don't know how far those will get me."

Without a word, Jake removed the M-4 and handed it to the reporter. "Take it, I've got plenty more ammo to get me through here. You could make better use of it than the former owner."

"Former owner," Alyssa asked dumbfounded, "Just where did you get this from?" she asked accepting the six additional M-4 clips from the criminal.

"There were these two chumps who looked like cleaners armed to the teeth. They were on some patrol and tried to kill me, but let's just say I was quicker than both of them," Jake said checking over his MP5 and other guns.

"Cleaners?" the reporter asked, paling at the thought of armed troopers storming the complex, "There are people here other than us?"

"Yeah," Jake said sliding the clip back into his MP5, "I have no idea who they're working for, but chances are they might be some of Umbrella's boys. I encountered some researchers who mentioned something about a retrieval unit possibly being sent in. Only problem is, they might be under orders to shoot everything that moves, including things that won't try to gnaw their arms off. All big businesses with dirty little secrets are like that."

"Oh god, as if things around here couldn't get any worse," Alyssa sighed heavily placing a hand on her forehead. "I've heard rumors of Umbrella using harsh methods to silence their employees, but actually resorting to murder, why didn't I see that coming from a mile away? Knowing them, we know too much already and they'll be out for our heads too."

"Just relax, I'm working on getting us out of here and I'm not going to let any of those masked spooks get anywhere near us if I can help it," Jake replied, "You have no idea what I've gone through just to try escaping from this damned town. Four days I've been in this nightmare, four long, hellacious days blasting my way through streets overflowing with the living dead, fighting through a police station I thought would provide sanctuary, only to find it another prison in this hellhole and now blasting my way through here battling some large mutated freak and some trench coated behemoth. Believe me; I've been through Hell and back."

"We've all been through Hell," Alyssa countered, her tone drifting far away, "None of us will be the same once we've made it out of here, if we ever do."

"You didn't come alone did you?" Jake asked, "You said 'us,' are there more people with you?"

Alyssa nodded, "Kevin is wandering around here somewhere. We got separated fighting this large mutant critter that grew from a baby to an adult in a matter of seconds. It nearly killed me, but he saved me from it, just like any good cop should do. We were together afterwards, but then more of those large lizards appeared and we got separated from one another and then I found you."

"Is it just him? Were you with anybody else?" Jake asked looking again at the knapsack strapped to her back.

The reporter's gaze darkened and she took a few moments to reply.

"Yoko was with us, and so were those Ralph and Phil fellows from the streets. When that giant beast with the rocket launcher blew up the police van we were all separated. Kevin, Yoko and I, along with Ralph and Phil, ended up in the sewers and kept moving forward until we found ourselves in the local subway system. We traveled from there until we managed to find our way here. Yoko, Ralph, Phil…they didn't make it, all killed in hideous ways by these freaks."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Jake replied looking down to the shorter woman. He was never particularly close to any of the survivors, so he didn't really know how to act properly in a situation like this. Judging by her tone, he could tell the usually domineering reporter had probably tried bonding with the Oriental student and must have been genuinely saddened by her loss. "Guess that explains you having her knapsack then."

The woman nodded, "Kevin had to put her down. She was bitten by one of those zombies and was in the process of turning. She tried to attack me and then Kevin…he didn't want to do it, but he had to or else she would have killed us both."

"I know it must have been a hard thing to do, but I agree that it had to be done," Jake added, "Better to die while you can still think rationally, rather than wander about as one of those walking cadavers."

Alyssa nodded ruefully again at the thoughts of the dead woman, her life cut drastically short by a manmade virus running through her system. "What about you? Did you come with anybody else who survived?"

Jake returned the nod, "Yeah, I came with some rookie cop from the R.P.D. named Leon and some woman named Ada Wong. There's also this girl who came to find her brother Chris, Claire Redfield her name is. She had some kid with her named Sherry. The kid's mother is running around this place too, but she's a fucking fruitcake if there ever was one and is better off left here."

"Good, I say we just find who we can and try to get the hell out of here alive," the reporter spoke looking cautiously around her surroundings.

"And deal some rough justice on those scumbags while we're at it," Jake added.

"I agree somebody has to do something, and right now I'm gathering all the information I possibly can," Alyssa said, patting her newly-acquired knapsack, "I'm getting everything I can, files, letters, memos, diaries, photos, anything that can be pinned against these bastards I'm getting."

"Sounds like a plan," Jake replied as they made their way into a new corridor and came to a full stop, letting the criminal lead the way with MP5 drawn.

Taking a few steps forward, he again motioned for the woman to stop. "You hear that?" he whispered. The sounds of slurping and lips smacking together were heard and the criminal began to crouch walk towards a nearby railing and stuck his gun through the cracks. On a lower level beneath them, the two survivors found a cafeteria where zombies feasted on the remnants of researchers and other facility staff, a flashback of the scene from a few days back where Lickers tore apart the R.P.D.'s cafeteria.

Raising his submachine gun, Jake rained hot lead down upon the feasting zombies, most of who fell with rounds to the head. Alyssa appeared next to him and opened fire on the remaining zombies, using the railing to steady her and absorb the rifle's recoil. A few seconds later, the zombies lay dead on the black and white tile, a layer of crimson now covering the linoleum.

"Alright, let's move, just don't look down," Jake ordered walking down the handicap access ramp, taking note of Alyssa's sickened expression.

"Easy for you to say," the reporter retorted as she carefully maneuvered her way around the corpses, watching warily to make sure none of them would rise back from the dead.

Once they had exited the room, Jake pushed a large cart in the way of the entrance in case any of the corpses were to rise up again. "That should hold them for a while if they decide to let up on the "playing possum" trick they're good at."

"Yeah, seen enough of those already," Alyssa quietly replied and continued walking down the next hall until one of the ceiling tiles collapsed in front of her. From the darkness crawled another Licker, letting out a trademark ragged hiss before it shot its tongue at the reporter, forcing her to back step. Quickly raising the rifle, she fired a few rounds at the mutant and caught it a few times in the side, but the mutant was too quick for her and reared its head back for another attack. Jake jumped in front of the reporter and fired his own barrage into the creature's body, catching it with a lethal headshot and ending its tortured existence.

"Thanks, I owe you one now," Alyssa told him, her naturally bright pink lips forming a rare smile as she stared deep into his bluish-gray eyes.

"Sure, we'd better keep moving," Jake said, breaking the stare down and continuing down the hall, eventually happening across another door that required a keycard. Reaching into his pockets he pulled out the two keycards he carried and tried the first one from Colin Leech's apartment, which didn't work. Swiping the second one through, he and Alyssa were rewarded with a loud beep followed by a loud click.

"Level B-3 Synthesis Laboratories, Archives, Armory, Holding Pens and Viral Research," Alyssa said reading a nearby directory aloud, "We'd better watch ourselves here, no telling what they might be storing down in these parts."

Jake only nodded silently in reply and quietly entered the corridor with gun raised. Right now he would be walking into one of the more volatile areas within the facility and checked his guns over one last time, knowing many monsters were probably still nearby and hungrier than before. He looked back to Alyssa behind him, walking with M-4 raised and looking unsure of herself. Just looking into her eyes he could sense the fear hidden beneath and tell that she had changed much in such a short period of time. He could only hope that this sudden change wouldn't affect the outcome and endanger both of them.

The duo found them in another sterile-looking white hallway with eight doors leading to various laboratories, creating a lot of additional ground for them to cover.

"Crap, we've got too much ground to cover here. We'll have to split up again. You take the doors on the right and I'll take all the doors here on the left-hand side," Jake ordered approaching the nearest door.

"Just who the hell died and made you the alpha male around here?" Alyssa spoke up resting the rifle against her shoulder, showing shades of the old Alyssa he knew and didn't care much for.

"Do we have to go through this again?" Jake asked unable to hide his irritation, "Do you want to get out of here alive or not?" he nearly shouted to the reporter, who stood there scowling at him saying nothing. "That's what I thought. The faster you cooperate, the faster we get out of this mess alive. Just take this one order for once in your life and I'll never order you around again."

"Do you promise?" she asked.

"I promise!" Jake replied, "Now just shift your ass so we can get out of here, or else I'm leaving you behind as a present to those Hunters!"

"Asshole," the reporter sighed rolling her eyes before disappearing into the first lab on the left.

"And I thought you were happy to see me again, but get set off by the simplest order. Two-faced bitch," Jake grunted and made his way to the nearest lab.

The first laboratory he entered completely contradicted the sterile cleanliness of the hall. Lying in the corner to his right, he bumped the door against a corpse resting behind the door, dropping it facedown onto the floor. A dead security guard lay prostrate not far from the other and he quickly searched the dead man, finding nothing. Spread throughout the room were four more deceased researchers all displaying jagged cuts along their bodies, and a custodial worker with an empty revolver in hand, having taken his own life.

A piece of paper lay inches away from the worker's body and Jake scooped it up.

_September 30, 1998_

_My life is officially over as I write this. Everything has gone to hell around me and it is entirely my employers fault, those arrogant bastards have killed us all. Everybody else is dead: the researchers, the techs, security, everybody!_

_Those damned creations of theirs aren't the only problem, their goon squads are here and they're butchering their own people left and right and I have nothing to defend me but my revolver._

_Please, somebody end this madness once and for all! For the sake of all that is pure and innocent stop these bastards!_

Martin Aberdeen

"Don't worry pal, somebody will," Jake said aloud folding the piece of paper and sliding it into his rucksack. As put the letter in, he looked over to a nearby counter and near a smashed chemistry set he found a small plastic bin bag with several photos in it, more possible evidence to pin against Umbrella. "Well what do we have here?"

Opening the bag, Jake slowly slid the photos out and began rifling through them, finding horrendous images that would disgust anybody, images that were a testament to one deluded man's attempt at playing God.

The first two images were practically before and after photos, the first of a group of ordinary looking townspeople all being dragged about by masked men with assault rifles, their faces letting the viewer know they had been screaming as they were dragged about to unknown fates. The following image displayed what eventually became as it showed a room filled with zombies who had been corralled into the cramped space and stood about dumbly waiting for a fresh human to cross their path.

"Let's see you fuckers try to explain this," the criminal spoke aloud knowing these pictures could forever damage Umbrella.

More disturbing images followed: a Tyrant in its stasis tube surrounded by researchers taking notes, Hunters in their pen tearing away at the remnants of a beef cattle, the different stages of an ordinary human mutating into a Licker, more of the giant bug-like creatures which were referred to on the back as "Drain Deimos," and finally an image of a creature Jake himself had not yet encountered, a hideous, shadowy creature that could only be described as a cross between a man and a spider with its eight arms, foot long claws, scythe-like mandibles, lipless mouth of razor-sharp teeth and glowing yellow eyes. The back of the picture read "Chimera," named after the ancient Greek beast.

"More evidence, something I actually need," Jake said quietly as he dropped the bag of pictures into his sack.

Near the bag he also found a sleek black tape recorder and listened to the tape, a recording of a researcher giving a lecture about the MA-121s, better known as Hunters. For some reason, he felt compelled to take the item and slipped it carefully into the sack.

"On to door number 2," Jake said reentering the hall and trying the next door, which was locked. Pulling out his lock pick, he quickly went to work and within seconds was rewarded with a click.

In the next lab he was met by the sight of bodies once again. Laying a couch in front of him was another researcher who had died with his face buried in the cushions as his throat had been torn out from behind. Throughout the room there were several more corpses with large gashes in their bodies and one that had been shot up completely, suggesting he had probably turned. A loud moan came from the corner of the room and from beneath an overturned shelf another zombie tried to crawl out. Saying nothing, Jake pulled out his katana and cut the cadaver's head off.

"What do we have here?" he asked sarcastically as he noticed a small pile of CDs that had fallen from the overturned shelf and now lay just inches away from the fallen zombie. Each disc contained labels of experiments involving each creature produced down in the facility as well as other side effects to their manufactured viruses.

"Man, I've discovered a goldmine down here," Jake remarked picking up the discs and sliding them into his pack. "Two more to go and then we're getting the hell out of here."

As he approached the third door, Jake heard a clicking sound and quietly put his ear to the door, hearing the weird chirping sound only a Hunter could make. Deciding to bring out the heavy firepower, the criminal withdrew his S&W and cocked the hammer raising it high. Backing up, he leapt forward and delivered a powerful snap kick to the door, nearly knocking it from its hinges.

A lone Hunter stood before him, towering over the remnants of three researchers with fresh blood and chunks still dripping from its claws. The creature spun around the second Jake came barreling into the room, letting out a bone-jarring shriek as it threw its claws in the air preparing to strike.

With the grace and accuracy of a true gunfighter, Jake fired two rounds into the creature's face, obliterating its head completely.

This next lab wasn't much different from the two previous labs, except that much of the room had been blackened by a recent fire extinguished by the overhead sprinkler system. Several cardboard boxes had been severely damaged in the blaze and their charred contents wafted through the air, some still burning. Broken glass and spent casings cracked underneath as the criminal's foot brushed against a metal box. Kneeling down, another box of shotgun shells was found along with the warped remnants of an Ingram MAC 10 Uzi and the burnt remnants of a uniform the same as the commandos he encountered. "Maybe those white coats actually managed to get the jump on one of those cleaners and were going to dress up like them, either going undercover to find out what this deal was about, or to sneak out and get help from the outside."

Only one lab was left to go and Jake hoped that he would find something else that would be of use in his battle against Umbrella. He had already found enough valuable information, a little more never hurt.

The final lab to his relief was much cleaner and appeared to be completely free of any threats. Everything appeared to be sterile like a lab should be and in good working order and it was among the computers that Jake found one still operational.

"Let's see what they've got on here," the criminal said sitting down at the console and typing in a few commands. His search brought up a test that had been in progress only to be abandoned midway through and some personal e-mails regarding completed and upcoming experiments. It was more evidence that could be used and Jake smiled briefly as he hit the "Print" button and the pieces of paper began emerging from the printer and he prepared a nearby manila envelope to store them.

Another clanging noise rang out and Jake whirled around with gun drawn, pointing the firearm at a nearby vent that had been knocked open.

"Show yourself freak! Do it now!" Jake roared at his unseen guest, ready to open fire if it even entertained a single thought of chewing his arm off.

Scraping noises against the aluminum surface resounded as a figure struggled to pull itself through the cramped quarters. A few more clanking noises were heard until a gloved hand emerged from the darkness followed by a head of shaggy reddish-brown hair that obscured the figure's face. Following a few tired grunts, the man pulled himself all the way out, revealing his tattered and filthy bluish-gray R.P.D. uniform.

"Wait…don't shoot!" the figure called out in a youthful voice tired from everything it had gone through, still it was one he recognized and had not heard in days. "I'm a human!"

"What the heck?" Jake asked aloud as he took another look at the man's uniform and then finally saw his face as he rose to his feet. Despite the dried blood that masked most of the newcomer's face, he instantly recognized who it was.

"What the…Jake? Jake Smith, is that really you? Hmph, if that is then you sure look happy to see me," the police officer noted sarcastically upon seeing the gun pointed in his face.

"Kevin?" Jake asked lowering his gun. Before him stood Officer Kevin Ryman of the Raccoon Police Department, the very officer who had attempted to lead him and the other survivors safely through the streets of Raccoon City following the outbreak, only to end up separated from the rest of the crew when they were attacked by the bazooka-wielding Nemesis.

"Jake, you're alive thank God!" he shouted walking over to the career criminal and clasping his hand in a firm handshake and using his free hand to give him a hearty pat on the shoulder, which he stopped when he took note of the man's slightly pained expression. "What are you doing down here? This place is dangerous and we have to get out of here as soon as possible." The man suddenly stopped when he mentioned "we," thinking of his other cohort.

"Oh shit, Alyssa!" Kevin gasped and began to tremble.

"Relax, she's fine!" Jake said grabbing the cop by the shoulder, "Kevin, settle down, she's fine! I just saw her not too long ago. She said that you were down here and we came looking for you. She shouldn't be too far away!"

The officer's breathing slowed and he began taking a few deep breaths before bracing himself against a nearby counter. "Please don't be shitting me man. We came down here together with Yoko, Ralph and Phil and they're all dead right now. Up until now, I thought Alyssa and I were the only survivors in this madhouse and now here you are. I just want to get as many people as I can out of here alive and well." Looking up slightly with worry in his tired bluish-green eyes he spoke pleadingly, "Please tell me there are survivors around here other than you."

Jake again nodded to the officer, "There are. I came down here with one of your own, some rookie named Leon Kennedy, and this mysterious woman named Ada Wong."

"Leon!" the officer quietly shouted punching his gloved fist into the table, "Oh great, now he's caught up in this mess too!"

"You know him?" Jake asked, noting the officer's sudden reaction.

"He's a friend of mine. I'm one of the people who helped him get in the R.P.D. I'm just glad to hear he's alright," Kevin replied, some of his dyed-in-the-wool optimism returned with the news.

"That's not all, there's a girl here too, Claire Redfield, the sister of one of your department's S.T.A.R.S. members, and she's got some kid named Sherry Birkin with her too." Jake reported, resuming his seat at the computer.

Kevin seemed overjoyed at the news and let out a slight chuckle, "Great, it looks like I've slightly managed to redeem myself around here. I'm just grateful to hear other people have survived this mess too. I'm a cop and I joined to serve and protect, if I can't save a city, then I'll be damned if I can't save a handful of people."

"You're right, better a few than no one at all. Glad to see there's a pig out there who still gives a shit about doing his job," Jake chuckled slightly, actually attempting some humor with a cop of all people.

"Whatever asshole," Kevin shot back with a slight laugh, "The S.T.A.R.S. team, it was their investigation up at the Spencer Estate that started all those rumors. To think I could have been a part of all that."

"What do you mean?" Jake asked.

"I've tried out for S.T.A.R.S. before, failed twice," Kevin sighed the last part shaking his head.

"Twice, what happened?" Jake asked again, now gathering some of the papers into the folder he prepared for evidence.

"Well…the first time they thought I was too immature to join because of my happy-go-lucky personality…something I'd expect from that grim bloated swine Irons, and my second time I failed target practice. They raised a stink because I shot all of the criminal targets carrying melee weapons in the head rather than trying to subdue them with limb shots," Kevin explained, removing his gloves and running his fingers through his sweat brown hair. "Of course now that the R.P.D. is officially out of commission, it looks like I won't be getting a third try."

"Damn, that's pretty fucked up if you ask me," Jake replied, gathering what was left of the papers into the folder and sliding it into his side pack followed by a few discs containing classified information.

"What are you doing?" Kevin asked staring at the discs.

"Just some information I've dug up on our friends at Umbrella," Jake grinned wickedly, "This place had evidence lying all over the place, waiting to be found. If you ask me, I'd say we've got enough to put those dickheads out of business for good."

"Amen, I'm down for that. These bastards have taken everything away from me," the officer mournfully replied, "and you can bet I'd be damned happy to get back at those bastards any way possible, even if I have to storm their main headquarters in Paris with a fucking machinegun."

"Strong talk for a law-abiding police officer, but I doubt you'll be getting too many objections right now."

"You're right, come on we've gotta find Alyssa and the others before any other lives can be ruined," Kevin ordered leading the way out of the lab.

Within seconds the two men were reunited with Alyssa Ashcroft, who seemed just as overjoyed to see Kevin alive as she did Jake, and were relaxing in one of the labs the reporter had searched and uncovered her own little goldmine of evidence to use against Umbrella.

The three sat around relating their tales to each other, Jake telling the two survivors everything that had happened on the streets after his separation from them, the various survivors he encountered, his encounter with surviving S.T.A.R.S. operative Jill Valentine, being barricaded in the R.P.D. during a massive zombie onslaught, his eventual meeting with Leon and Claire, his battles with Birkin and how he finally wound up down here in the secret Umbrella research facility.

Kevin and Alyssa were both visibly stunned by his tale and took a while to compose them before relating their own story to Jake. They told how they had made their way through the city subway system and eventually found their way to this facility up until their reunion with him.

Jake also took notice of multi-colored charm attached to the officer's uniform, looking totally out of place on a modern police uniform. Kevin went on to explain how it had originally belonged to Yoko and how he noticed that nothing ever seemed to touch her when she carried the item. It was only when she had dropped the item during a scuffle with a zombie that she had become vulnerable and was thus bitten into by the viral carrier. Her transformation then followed and much to his reluctance, the officer was forced to put her out of her misery. It was with a heavy heart that he had decided to take the talisman, both out of memory to his fallen friend and hoping that it could protect him from danger as well.

"Man, that's some heavy shit," Jake grunted stepping down from the counter he sat on and pulled out his MP5 checking it over one more time.

"Shit can't describe what we've endured these past few days," Kevin replied and pulled out a small silver case containing three small vials and three needles stacked neatly on top of each other.

"What is that?" Alyssa asked suddenly stepping up as she saw the mysterious glowing blue liquid inside.

"Yeah, what is it? Another virus cooked up by these Umbrella creeps?" Jake asked staring intently at the vials.

"I've read about it and it's quite the opposite," Kevin replied pulling one of the vials out and staring at it fixedly. "I found these in a lab along with some notes. Apparently somebody based at a secret lab in the university had been trying to find a cure for the T-Virus, a little something called "Daylight."

"What?" Alyssa suddenly blurted, "You mean to tell me they've had a cure for this "cannibal disease" the entire time? Those bastards! This whole mess could have been prevented and we wouldn't be where we are now!"

"You're right, but then again you never know how long it's been out for," Jake said with arms crossed behind her, "Maybe whoever created this cure only managed to synthesize it when it was too late. Either way they've shot themselves in the foot. Then again, if this mess never happened, then we wouldn't be here right now to expose their dirty little secrets to the public."

Jake walked over to Kevin, who was in the middle of filling the needles with the glowing blue liquid, "You think that will seriously work? Neither one of you have been bitten or scratched have you?"

"No, but chances are this shit is either in the air or the water, and we've been through both. Either way, we're not taking any chances," Kevin said readying the needle.

"So what have you been doing to fight it if you think you might be infected?" Jake asked looking back to Alyssa.

"With these," she explained pulling out a small white capsule and holding it between her thumb and index fingers. "George gave us a couple before we got separated. We don't know if they would have any effect or not, but they certainly should slow down the virus' progression rate." She then handed the tablet to Jake, who quickly swallowed it down.

"There, they should be ready. We'd each better take one before going any further," Kevin said offering needles to both of his cohorts.

"Here goes nothing," Jake thought to himself as he found a vein and slowly injected the blue liquid into his system.

At first he felt nothing, but then a sudden chill enveloped him and held him in place for about a minute before he could move again. "Must have to freeze our entire system in order to work, whatever it does, I feel great now."

"Alright, now that we've got that out of the way we should raid the armory and see if they've got anything left," Kevin said pumping his shotgun after loading the shells given to him by Alyssa.

Kevin carried his customized Colt .45 Automatic, in addition to a Franchi SPAS-12 assault shotgun, Desert Eagle 50A.E magnum handgun and dual Ingram MAC 10 Uzis. Alyssa carried the Beretta 9mm. Jake had tossed her the other day and now carried an M-4 assault rifle given to her by the career criminal. Besides her firearms, she also carried a stun gun which was dangerously low on batteries and had found a combat knife hidden in a locker thanks to her lock picking skills. Jake himself was the well-armed member of the group, but would eventually run out if he did not restock soon.

The next corridor contained the much sought after armory, which also was the sight of another massive zombie feast.

"Oh my god, if only these freaks had some fucking table manners," Alyssa winced as the undead tore fresh strips of flesh from a dead guard.

"Less talk, more action!" Jake shouted raising his MP5 and cutting a path through the feasting zombies. Kevin joined in, pulling out his dual Ingrams and dropping several more. It wasn't until they were down to the last few that the reporter finally joined in, taking down two of the last three, still not fully used to the rifle's recoil.

Just outside the bloody mass of shredded flesh and broken bones lay another red and black Umbrella keycard, one specifically designed for the armory. Jake quickly swiped the card and slid it through the electronic reader, another electronic beep indicating they had been granted access to the laboratory's arsenal.

Like they suspected, most of the armory's stock had been looted, but there was more than enough left for them to use.

Jake had found some additional clips for both his MP5 and Beretta along with three extra speed loaders for his S&W. He was doing well enough for grenades right now and left those for his companions. On one of the racks he found another 9mm. Beretta and decided he could do with another for the sake of taking down zombies faster.

Kevin found six fresh clips for his nearly depleted Colt .45 and in addition to the shells given to him by Alyssa and Jake, found plenty more cases for the SPAS-12, scrounging as many as he could. He also discovered three additional clips for the Desert Eagle and both Ingrams, as well as taking three hand grenades. At the back of the room sat a massive General Electric M-134 Vulcan Mini-Gun, a powerful heavy machinegun capable of shredding anything in its path. Thinking they would probably encounter more B.O.W.'s like the Hunters and Lickers, he had no problem taking the powerful weapon and slung two lines of bullets over his shoulders. The officer now looked like a walking tank and had managed to give Jake a run for his money.

"Rambo, eat your heart out!" the officer grinned looking at himself in a nearby mirror.

Alyssa found three additional clips for her M-4 assault rifle and two more for her Beretta sidearm. On a shelf she also found some much needed batteries for powering her stun gun and nearby a powerful Colt Python .357 magnum along with four speed loaders for the mighty gun. As an additional precaution, she also picked up three hand grenades of her own. If any of Kevin's other co-workers had survived and been along for the ride, they probably would have confiscated the reporter's weapons assuming she was a defenseless woman.

That had proven to be far from the truth as the woman easily demonstrated her worth in battle on the dangerous streets above, and by the testimony of a trained police officer in Kevin, had managed to survive three days underground fighting her way through scores of Umbrella's creations. Alyssa Ashcroft had proven herself to be a capable fighter and resourceful in many other ways, thus earning her right to carry a firearm and fight alongside the boys.

"We've still got so much work ahead of us, better get rockin' while it's good," Jake said to the others and one by one they exited the armory, being watched closely by unknown spectators.

Kevin now led the way armed with the mini-gun through more winding corridors, following the signs that would point them to the nearest escape route. The hallways they traveled through now appeared to be clear of any visible threats, aside from the aftermath of some small skirmishes with a few dead bodies lying here and there. Nevertheless, they remained vigilant for any new threats.

Jake walked alongside Alyssa silently observing the signs posted throughout the halls, notifying them that they were getting closer to the Level B-3 Holding Pens. "That's going to be a fun time," he sarcastically thought knowing what probably lurked about there.

"We've got another door!" Kevin called out coming to a direct halt. Before them stood the door leading to the facility's holding pens.

"Oh great, we're going to have to enter a room filled with more of those freaks! This is getting better and better," Alyssa shouted throwing her hands into the air.

"It looks like we don't have much choice. There are no other ways out of here and turning around won't get us anywhere either," Kevin sighed in front of them, walking up to the door and inspecting the control panel. "It requires a numeric key code to get in too," he reported punching his fist against the nearby wall in disbelief.

"Let me try, maybe I can get it open for us," Jake said stepping his way past the police officer and examining the panel.

"Think you can get it open?" Kevin asked looking over his shoulder, then turning back to Alyssa, who had now lowered her rifle and stood tapping her foot against the floor impatiently.

"Might take some time, hopefully a few minutes at the most," the criminal replied.

"Better hurry then."

"Sure thing," Jake pulled out the combat knife he had picked up from one of the commandos and used it as a makeshift screwdriver to get the screws out of the panel. He then began pulling out wires and went to work crisscrossing the various wires, much like he had done to gain access to the frozen storage earlier.

"This has been one fuck of a bad week," Alyssa spoke next to Kevin, "If we make it out of here alive, I'm gonna get so fucking drunk until I can no longer remember any of this crap."

"We'll worry about that later. Right now we just need to worry about getting the fuck out of this mess alive," Kevin replied, temporarily lowering the mini-gun and taking a few deep breaths.

"So what do you think you will do once you get out of here?" Alyssa asked now leaning against a nearby wall. "Do you think you'll still be a cop? I'm sure surviving a disaster of this magnitude would look good on your resume."

"I doubt it," the officer replied solemnly shaking his head, "By now those freaks have probably torn the R.P.D. apart completely and with it, all of the documents I would need for a transfer. Fuck, I doubt even this would be able to get me in elsewhere," Kevin said pulling out his badge and displaying it for the reporter.

Normally he would have been proud to display his blue and gold badge to anyone, a symbol that he had actually done something good with his life. He was an officer of the law, dedicated solely to serving and protecting the innocent. The badge was a sign of respect and authority, as well as inspiration and pride to those around him.

To be an officer was more than just writing out tickets and arresting bad guys, to be an officer was to serve the greater good and lead by example. Kevin never let his position go to his head, over the years he had matured from a brash, cocky rookie to a loyal, dedicated officer who always stopped to engage in small talk with familiar faces around the downtown area and to engage in deep discussions with the local children, hoping to keep them out of trouble by warning them of the dangers of drugs and street gangs and encouraging them to stay in school and listen to their parents.

Now the badge seemed more like a useless husk of metal, an arrogant display of power which he thought could enable him to save everybody and keep this city in fine working order, a worthless trinket serving as a testament to his failure as an officer of the law. It was only the presence of the other living, breathing human being standing next to him that kept him from taking the badge and throwing it into the nearest trashcan. "Come on, at least someone is still around to count on you," a small voice told him in the back of his head.

Kevin was brought out of his reverie by the woman placing her hand over his, pushing the badge back towards him.

"Keep it," she said speaking in a much more empathetic tone, "it still means something. As long as you are still around to serve and protect it will mean something in this nightmare. You've made it this far so that should account for something, and you've still got me here to bitch you out when you act too happy-go-lucky for your own good," she spoke with a wink.

The officer smiled to her and slowly slid the badge back into his pocket, "You'd just better survive for me so it can amount to something."

Jake meanwhile still worked furiously away at the wires twisting several pairs together in a span of seconds. "Almost there!" he shouted back to his two companions and crossed another pair together to be rewarded with two sparking wires and a gleeful beep. "Access Granted" a robotic female voice called out and the door slid open. The brief celebration was cut short by the sight of more bloodshed.

On the tiled floor before them lay another corpse. It was the body of a man, decked out in black combat fatigues and holding an MP5 submachine gun in one limp hand. Whatever his role had been here, the man had literally lost his head.

"Oh my…" Alyssa gasped, placing a hand over her mouth.

"One of those cleaners you were telling us about earlier?" Kevin asked slightly nudging the corpse.

"I don't think so," Jake replied kneeling down to inspect the soldier's weapon, "I never say any of them carrying one of these. They only had M-4's like the one Alyssa has right now. Good for me anyway," he said pocketing some extra ammo for his MP5. "And they sure as fuck didn't carry these," he added displaying an M-9 tranquilizer pistol for his companions, "These guys were here to kill."

"Any theories on what happened to our lucky friend here?" Alyssa asked finally forcing herself to look at the headless corpse.

"I think I might know," Jake said gravely looking up, "but it's not a very uplifting idea, and neither are my theories on what happened to them," he said pointing forward.

Before them lay more corpses dressed exactly like the one they had just found and displaying similar injuries. Missing limbs and deep gashes had been the cause of death for these fellows like much of the other unlucky souls on this level. Their weapons had been destroyed and rendered useless, the only monster they could think of capable of such a feat was the Hunters.

"Oh god, come on let's just get out of here!" Alyssa blurted out lowering her eyes and trying carefully to maneuver around the corpses again. Jake and Kevin looked to each other and began soldiering forth until they were confronted with another door, this one requiring voice analysis.

"Terrific, Umbrella and their damned puzzles," Kevin said fighting off his urge to blast the door down.

"Don't worry, I think I've got this one handled again," Jake spoke up; pulling out the tape recorder he had found in the first lab and pushed the microphone button. He then proceeded to play the tape into the microphone and was given another beep indicating access had been granted.

Kevin was about to make another comment, but Jake quickly raised his hand to silence the officer and slowly crept into the holding pen area with MP5 raised. The officer and investigative reporter followed closely behind and instantly went on alert once they saw what awaited them.

The trio stumbled across another large room lined with row upon row of stasis tubes, some of which had been smashed open and were vacant, others still containing various breeds of Hunter B.O.W.s who floated dormant in their chemical baths, ready to be activated at any moment and would probably strike once they laid eyes upon the wandering humans.

"Oh fuck, not these ugly bastards again…" Alyssa shuddered, remembering the torment she had endured while being stalked by these creatures throughout the then-frozen research facility. They had savagely butchered Ralph as he tried to help her fight them off in the frozen junction area, only to take some savage slashes before falling to his death.

"I know what you mean," Kevin added, "These freaks are everywhere, like they were being mass produced for some upcoming war or something. Umbrella could have at least made these freaks halfway intelligent so they don't attack everything in sight."

"How the hell can you be certain they wouldn't attack you still?" Alyssa inquired, looking awkwardly at a tube containing a Hunter with weird red bumps covering its head and shoulders. "Maybe they've already been programmed to attack anything that doesn't work for Umbrella."

Jake ignored their conversation and looked forward to the very end of the room. Beyond the carpet of corpses, both of researchers and commandos, stood a ten foot tall stasis tube and in it was the same abomination the career criminal had seen in the same photos discovered in the first lab.

The creature was a seven foot tall silver-skinned mountain of muscle, colored slightly by the visible veins emanating from the exposed heart placed outside of its chest. Its face looked like that of an ordinary human, much like the Mr. X Tyrant he had encountered, aside from a few veins that crept onto its face, and its bald head glistened like it was made of crystal rather than flesh. What was supposed to be its left arm had been turned into a gigantic claw capable of slicing through any human that stood within its path and the surgical scars surrounding it almost suggested that the limb had been attached rather than grown. The only thing he knew was that it was no longer human and probably twice as dangerous as Mr. X if activated, although probably not as bad as William Birkin.

"And what the fuck is that thing?" Kevin asked staring at the giant keeping his mini-gun at the ready.

"A Tyrant-002," Jake replied, squinting his eyes to read the golden nametag posted beneath the behemoth.

"If I had my camera with me I'd so be getting a lot of pictures to use against these bastards," Alyssa said furrowing her brow at the quiescent beast.

"I've got you covered there too," Jake spoke to the woman, "I found some photos of freaks created by these bastards, sure you'll find plenty shots of "Baldy" up there and his friends."

More shrieks sounded from above and the trio looked upward to find more Hunters perched in the rafters.

"Gonna have to worry about covering us later!" Kevin shouted as the whirr of his mini-gun sounded. Hefting the massive gun up, bullets quickly tore through the rafters, sending a few dead Hunters raining down upon the already corpse-laden floor below.

"You heard the man," Jake roared over the whirr of gunfire and fired his MP5 into the rafters. A majority of his shots connected with a Hunter who had already leapt downward towards him, causing the creature to fall and be impaled on the broken shards of glass sticking out from a shattered tank. "That's right; bring it on you scaly bitches!"

Another Hunter landed on a stasis tube behind the career criminal and raised both arms ready to attack. Within seconds a stream of seven rounds ripped through the creature's chest and face and it fell backwards dead.

All hell was breaking loose and an indeterminate number of Hunters landed around the three survivors from all sides. The sounds of battle seemed to stir the dormant Hunters from their slumber and one by one they began shattering the cramped confines of their stasis tubes and flew throughout the massive laboratory, joining their brethren in their aerial assault upon the battered humans.

Kevin stood back to back against Jake as they fought the bloodthirsty amphibians; the chatter of the mini-gun near deafening in such close quarters as the officer fired a stream of piercing lead into the approaching menaces, tearing massive shreds from their scale-covered bodies and sending them flying backwards in crippled heaps.

Another beast landed behind Jake and directed a slash at his neck, but the criminal was too fast and a round from his MP5 obliterated the creature's face. Two more monsters appeared before the criminal, but Alyssa was there to back him and both monsters fell from the combined fire of the two fighters.

"How are you holding up on that bad boy, Kevin?" Jake shouted from behind the officer, making reference to the man's newly-acquired mini-gun.

"Relax, I'm still doing well over here," Kevin shouted back, still waving the gun back and forth for any remaining threats.

Another of the scaly terrors leapt right in front of Alyssa, but Jake was there to fire another rapid fire burst into its demonic face. More Hunters suddenly appeared and the three did everything they could to halt the advance, but more continued to appear, some of whom were probably from outside the holding pen.

"Shit, I'm dry!" Alyssa cried over the popping of Jake's MP5.

"I'm right behind you! Stay low!" Jake shouted back to the woman as she ducked low to reload her rifle.

Another wave of Hunters tried to attack the group from behind, but Kevin was there to cover both of them with the mini-gun, splattering more mutated blood all over the walls and equipment as he tore through the wave like a hot knife through butter.

Jake backed himself near an empty stasis tube and continued firing until his MP5 clicked dry. With lightning-fast reflexes, the criminal flipped a clip from his belt and slid it into the stock pulling back the bolt. "Back in business," he thought once again covering Alyssa. Broken glass and sparks flew around them as Kevin continued cutting his path of destruction with the mighty mini-gun, but his efforts paid off as Hunters fell dead left and right, the combined power of Jake and Alyssa hastening the rate at which they fell.

"You want some more you fucking ugly bastards?" Kevin screamed maniacally waving the mini-gun back and forth and cutting through more Hunters. "Huh? I thought so!" he shouted taking down another. "Eat some too you ugly shithead!" he roared taking down yet another.

"There's still too many!" Alyssa hollered, her rifle spitting out yet another spent clip and she ducked down hiding behind Jake to reload it.

"Not for long!" Jake shouted back as he continued dropping the beasts with shots to their snake-like faces. Despite all the widespread mayhem surrounding them, he still managed to pick out that the number of Hunters was rapidly dwindling and would soon be depleted if they kept up at their current pace.

Kevin continued to fire away madly at the attacking beasts until his mini-gun suddenly stopped. "Fuckin' eh, perfect timing!" he shouted to the mighty gun. Knowing it would take forever to reload in a crisis like this; he threw the gun down for the moment and withdrew his dual Ingram handheld Uzis, continuing his counterattack against the Hunters.

Jake and Alyssa continued their offensive with the criminal continuing to closely guard the reporter. By now she had gotten more used to the rifle and its powerful recoil, holding it like it was second nature. Only four additional Hunters appeared to hover overhead on their side and leapt down towards them, back and forth hoping to avoid the bullets fired in their direction. Taking note of their movements, the criminal began to slow his aim down while the reporter continued firing wildly next to him and fired a single round that traveled directly through one of the beasts' eyes, killing it instantly. With the beasts drawing nearer, he fired controlled bursts into the approaching mutants, dropping all of them individually.

A few more began leaping out of the darkness near the Tyrant's stasis tube and Alyssa fired a stream of rounds into their direction, killing all of them while wasting an entire clip in the process.

With the monsters behind them taken care of, Jake now focused his attention on covering Kevin, who still fought valiantly with dual Uzis drawn. Taking position next to the officer he fired the rest of his clip into the approaching horde before stopping to reload. Years of experience had given him great speed in reloading a weapon, so it was only a few seconds before he had the bolt pulled back and was kicking ass alongside Kevin once again. Alyssa soon followed and dropped another Hunter perched on a support beam above them.

"Alright, we've almost got them!" Kevin shouted over the popping of automatic weapons. The bullets continued to fly until the last Hunter fell over dead and with it the survivors bent over taking a much needed breather.

"Damned fucking scaly freaks…" Alyssa nearly screamed in between panting, "I'm really starting to hate lizards now…"

"No fucking shit…" Kevin blurted out nearly laughing, "I always used to look forward to visiting the reptile house at the zoo, but now it just seems so wrong."

"I'd love to join in on your little chat, but we've still gotta get the hell out of here," Jake cut in, lifting up the mini-gun and giving it back to Kevin.

"Yeah, the more we sit around and chit-chat, the lesser of the chance we have of making it outta here," Kevin said accepting the gun and taking down a line of bullets to load.

"Any ideas where we'll be heading off to once we make it out of here?" Jake asked, "You're the natives here so you should have some idea."

"Latham is fifteen miles away from here;" Alyssa spoke, "There should be a rest stop on the way where we can get a warm meal and get cleaned up too."

"It won't be easy though," Kevin cut in, "Right now it's just the three of us and God only knows if any of these freaks have made it outside of the city limits. With the R.P.D. history there won't be any cavalry around to rescue us."

"Who needs a fucking cavalry when you've got this kind of hardware?" Jake snorted triumphantly raising his submachine gun into the air. "We should have enough ammo to get us out of here alive hopefully."

"I wouldn't get too cocky," Alyssa said checking over her M-4, "Besides, you're not going anywhere until you've given me a full survivor's testimony for my Pulitzer. Remember, you promised," the reporter said giving an evil wink.

"I know, I know," Jake sighed, "Hopefully we'll reconnect with Leon and Claire and then you can get some extra interviews under your belt."

"And if we're lucky, we might find those survivors from the bar and then you'll have material for two Pulitzers," Kevin chuckled snapping the compartment down and giving the bullet line a final yank to make sure it was secure.

"Do you think they even made it out alive?" Alyssa said thinking about Mark, David, George and the others from J's Bar the night of the outbreak.

"They had to have," Kevin replied, "Fighting alongside those people, they weren't ordinary pushovers. Hell, did you see that David King guy in action? That guy was a damn good fighter, could probably survive alone in the jungle for weeks with only a canteen and a knife. I tell you he sure put MacGyver to shame with the way he used his toolkit back there."

"Heh, I'd say," Alyssa chortled, "Definitely proved to be more useful than he looked."

"Okay, now is really not the time to sit around and chat!" Jake shouted and raised his MP5 in the direction of the largest stasis tube.

Kevin and Alyssa turned around directing their attention towards the stasis tube holding the Tyrant-002 and their mouths instantly fell open in disbelief.

During the battle, gunfire had struck the panels of equipment monitoring the Tyrant's life signs, causing them to short circuit and prematurely awaken the beast from its slumber. The lights on the tank switched over to green and another robotic female voice spoke up, "Tyrant Unit 002 now activating, all vital signs functional." The tank slowly began to drain and the creature's silver eyes shot open. As soon as the liquid had completely drained, the creature drew its arm back and smashed its claw through the glass. With the grace of a feline, the massive hulk leapt from the container and landed on the carpet of corpses, shattering bones and entire bodies in its wake.

Jake holstered his MP5 and withdrew the more powerful S&W M629C, holding it at eye level and training it on the creature's skull. Kevin brought up the mini-gun while Alyssa stood next to him with M-4 raised. Once again they were ready to fight another abomination of Umbrella's creation.

"You want a piece of me, freak?" Kevin shouted at the creature, "Well bring it on!"

Jake said nothing and the powerful cracks of his magnum revolver sounded throughout the lab as he fired an entire round into the monster's upper body. More gunfire rang out as Kevin and Alyssa now joined in, knocking the creature backwards with the combined force of their weapons, blood gushing throughout the air as the creature was impacted by the shredding rounds of the officer's mini-gun. In the span of seconds, Alyssa had already wasted an entire clip on the Tyrant and quickly slapped in a new magazine before letting loose again.

The Tyrant continued its attempted assault, but continued to be knocked around as the three survivors ran around the room firing at it from all angles. A roar of frustration escaped the beast's lips and it began flailing its clawed arm wildly, demolishing anything that stood in its way. Jake and his companions were forced to take cover behind support pillars to avoid flying debris and kept up firing at the beast, who had now slashed through a stasis tube containing a Hunter and completely eviscerating the dormant creature.

Hoisting the burden of his mini-gun further, Kevin threw himself out into the open and let loose a volley on the approaching Tyrant, ripping away major chunks from the monster's torso and arms, breaking off one of its claws too. The attacks visibly slowed the creature as the blood poured out in buckets and it could barely lift its clawed arm.

Jake loaded another speed loader into his revolver and decided that it was time to end the battle. He noticed the beating heart outside the Tyrant's chest remained intact and seemed to pump even harder in an attempt to keep the beast on its feet. "Time to end this once and for all," he said quietly as he raised the gun and fired a round into the beast's neck, causing it to wobble greatly and crash into another stasis tube. Now training his aim on the exposed heart, he fired a single round, causing it to explode upon impact. The beast still staggered and Jake fired his remaining four rounds into the beast's cranium, knocking it flat on its back.

"Is it dead?" Alyssa asked hurriedly next to the criminal.

"Only one way to make sure," Jake responded and unclipped one of the grenades from his belt, "Both of you had better do the same." Nodding silently, his two companions both pulled out their own grenades.

"On the count of 3, pull the pins, roll them towards the fucker and then run like hell," Jake ordered raising his grenade.

"1…"

Kevin and Alyssa both readied their grenades.

"2…"

All three of them pinched the pins and were ready to pull.

"3!"

The pins were pulled from each grenade and one by one, the three survivors rolled their grenades towards the prone Tyrant and bolted out through a rear exit. Within seconds three massive explosions rocked the sub-basement level's foundation and the three survivors were knocked from their feet as they continued their mad dash.

"Damn!" Jake grunted as he again landed on his shoulder, aggravating some previous injuries sustained during his stay in Raccoon City. Forcing his way into a sitting position, he found himself against the nearest wall. Kevin and Alyssa lay on the ground crawling about trying to rise back to their feet as well.

"If that didn't kill that beast, then I don't know what will," Kevin spoke dusting off his uniform before rising back to his feet and reaching over to pick the mini-gun up again.

"It has to be dead with the way you tore it apart with your new friend there," Alyssa said motioning towards his mini-gun.

"I'm getting the feeling that this gun will become a very good friend of mine," the officer smiled, patting the gun like it was a pet, "Now if only I would've been allowed to use heavy artillery like this back on the force."

Jake rose back to his feet quietly and looked around until he found a sign indicating that they had reached the facility's archives. "I think we've just found more of what we came for. We're going to need some bigger bags."

"Strange place to put their archives," Kevin remarked.

"Do you think you'll be able to get us into the system?" Alyssa asked taking note of Jake's hacking and electronic skills.

"If I could get us in here, then I sure as hell can get us into this system," Jake nodded to the woman.

"Great, I have faith in you," the reporter spoke with an assuring smile.


	38. Chapter 33: The Truth Surfaces

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Chapter 33: The Truth Surfaces

Jake was focused deeply on the task at hand ahead of him. Thanks to his hacking skills, he had spent the last half hour gathering mountains upon mountains of information regarding Umbrella, Inc.'s dealings all over the world.

The initial entrance had not been a pleasant one as the archives were crawling with human carriers. Of course, with their firepower the three survivors had managed to transform the small army into one large rotting mound of fertilizer. Many of the bodies wore tattered lab coats, a few wore the dull gray industrial jumpers of maintenance workers, some wore light bluish-green surgical scrubs and lastly there were those who wore the black and white uniforms of security personnel. Kevin stood by with his M-134 Vulcan Mini-Gun on standby, ready to open fire in the instance any of them rose from the dead again.

Aside from the corpses carpeting the front of the room, the archives was a fairly well-maintained room that looked like a college library with numerous metallic shelves containing an endless amount of file folders and a few volumes of books probably related to bioengineering. Banks of computers sitting on plain contemporary-looking white desks littered with miscellaneous documents that had been hastily abandoned before the outbreak. On the black carpeting below, the light blue walls around them, numerous manila folders that lay scattered about, even on a half-full coffee mug, were tiny red and white shields – miniaturized representations of the Umbrella Corporation's proud logo, a logo seen all over Raccoon City and much of the world.

"Damn, I knew Umbrella was huge, but not this huge," Jake whistled as he continued browsing through the numerous files that continued to pop up before him.

"Too much for one disc, but enough to bring these scumbags down for good hopefully," Alyssa said watching closely from over his shoulder. "And when I say that, I sure as hell am not in it for the Pulitzer."

"A strong sense of justice is a valuable quality to have in such a situation," Jake replied without looking up from the screen, "One that should take precedence over such material issues."

"Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on him," Alyssa thought slightly lowering the rifle, "He has proven to be a highly valuable asset during our little tour down here and he had saved both our lives on countless occasions, just as he did on the streets above. Not to mention he is kind of cute in the whole tall, dark and mysterious kind of way." The reporter couldn't help but smile at the mysterious man as he continued typing away and burning the recovered documents onto the fourth of a series of blank discs found conveniently placed next to the station he presently worked at. "I'd wonder if he has a girlfriend or not, but now is not the time to be thinking about such a thing."

"There, that seems to be the last of it," Jake said tapping the ENTER key. A clear silver disc popped out and the criminal stared briefly at the little collection of discs he had obtained. These discs contained every single bit of information regarding Umbrella's dealings in every major American city, as well as their hidden activities in major overseas locations such as Paris, Vienna, Berlin, London, Rome and numerous other hidden laboratories located all over the world. He carefully slid the discs into a small waterproof container and handed them over to the waiting reporter.

"Alright, is that everything we came for?" Kevin called out from the end of the room near the makeshift graveyard, looking down upon the corpses with a sour expression. "I'd really like to get the hell out of here while I can still remember what fresh air smells like," he spoke crinkling his nose at the overpowering stench of death.

"Don't worry, it's time to go right now," Jake said gathering his equipment and standing up for the first time in over 45 minutes, stretching his limbs out as he returned to his feet.

"Finally, you say something I like for the first time in forever," Kevin chuckled taking one last look at the corpses before walking over towards his two companions.

The three survivors made their way back into the corridor they entered from the holding pens and now made their way towards an elevator located at the end of the long hall.

"So what's next? Us getting the hell out of here I hope?" Alyssa asked looking to both her male counterparts.

"I'd say that sounds like a good idea," Kevin answered continuing his march towards the elevator.

Jake kept silent knowing his goal didn't match theirs. He still had a mission to complete and he knew that he would not be able to collect his reward if they were still present. Still, they did hold the common goal of eliminating all threats in their way, knowing that they would definitely have his back going up against Birkin in another inevitable showdown.

Kevin and Alyssa were both good people to Jake, individuals who had done him no wrong during his stay in Raccoon. They were individuals with their own lives away from this madness and for their assistance, he would reward them by allowing them to leave his side alive and go back to whatever waited for them, if they had anything outside the city at all.

What would happen to them was a big issue. The criminal would probably go on to collect his reward elsewhere, while they would probably find the nearest rest stop and try to reconnect their ties to civilization and maybe even search for their lost companions from several nights back. Either way, he had to separate himself from them when the time was right.

The trio stopped in front of the elevator and Kevin took point this time, motioning for the others to stand back. With mini-gun raised he pushed the call button and stood back listening to the sound of the elevator descending, ready to tear anything non-human looking to shreds. Jake and Alyssa stood ready behind him with weapons raised.

A few seconds later, the elevator had made its stop and a loud ding indicated the doors were about to open. The large steel doors slowly opened and the trio was ready to open fire, but found nothing, until they looked in one of the corners.

In the corner beneath the panel lay a maintenance worker in a blood-splattered industrial jumper with an empty 9mm. burst handgun lying inches from his right hand. Three large gashes ran across his chest and the man was breathing in ragged gasps much like the ever-so-common Lickers. Jake and Alyssa both knelt down near the dying man and watched as he looked to them with sunken brown eyes dulled by pain.

"Lickers…" the man gasped coughing up more blood, "All over…the place…get out…while you still…can…" The worker's head rolled backwards and he never regained consciousness.

Jake reached over and searched the dead man's pockets, finding an extra clip he had probably been too weak to load. Still doing well enough for his handgun ammo, he gave the clip to Alyssa and shut the dead man's eyes.

"Going up," the criminal said flatly pushing the button which closed the doors behind them and the trio then made their way upward in the cramped compartment with their dead passenger and further towards a possible escape route.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Excruciating pain shot throughout Ada Wong's slender frame as she hobbled down the darkened hallway, keeping herself braced firmly against the nearest wall with the railing beneath her. In one hand she held her Browning HP handgun, keeping the other pressed firmly against the wound on her side, knowing she would probably bleed to death if she removed it.

"Damned Birkin…" the spy muttered to herself as she reached into the side pouch found in the security office and reached for another haemostatic pill, popping it eagerly hoping to slow the bleeding as quickly as possible. To dull the pain and regain some lost energy, she reached in and grabbed a blue and white recovery pill, waiting for the red pill to pass through her system before gulping the next one down.

With the pain slightly dulled, she managed to regain some normal thought and now remembered what she had been told before entering Raccoon City.

"According to the blueprints of this place, I should be near the room where they have it…" she thought clearly for the first time in hours as she continued her staggered pace down the hall. "It better be, I haven't spent all my time in this hellhole for nothing," her mind added as she looked down to the watch that had been given to her by her deceased boyfriend John Fay.

Ada Wong was not her real name and to tell the truth, even she didn't know her own birth name. For as long as she can remember, she had been raised by the corporation, trained as a child soldier and schooled in the finer arts of espionage and assassination.

Her lifetime service to the company had seen her undertake dangerous missions all over the world and she had killed many in her wake. Although a capable fighter trained in all forms of armed and unarmed combat, she was predominantly used as a spy, using her womanly charm to obtain her mission objectives and then kill without remorse.

Many of her missions had required her to get close to certain individuals so she could gather their secrets and then either put a bullet in their skull, open their throat with a knife, or strangle them to death when they least expected it. She was a black widow in the truest sense, addicted to danger and in a morbid love affair with death itself.

Her most recent assignment had required her to become acquainted with John Fay, one of the lead researcher's at the Spencer Estate research facility. The man knew too much for his own good, the perfect candidate for her employers and the mission was simple: get close to the man, learn his secrets and gather everything she can and then when the time was right, dispose of him in a manner that looked purely accidental. There was no true love felt on her behalf, nor with any of the romantic interludes she had carried out with the man, she was a trained actress and he was nothing more than a pawn.

Learning firsthand from Annette Birkin, John had been killed at the Spencer Estate after he was transformed into a zombie. Chances were very high he was put out of his misery by one of the S.T.A.R.S. members and if not, he was killed in the blast. Either way, he was out of her hair forever and now she could carry out the rest of her mission.

All that was left to do now was obtain the G-Virus samples and destroy the lab, it should have been a simple procedure with security in disarray, but with the undead and Umbrella monstrosities lurking about, her safety had been severely compromised. In a sense she was almost thankful she had stumbled across those two men at the station, Leon Kennedy and Jake Smith.

Together, the trio had fought their way out of the station and through the sewers below, eventually finding the secret tram that led them to the underground research facility. It was during the ride that they were attacked and she was seriously wounded by the mutant that was once William Birkin.

The two men had done a good job of fighting off the rampaging beast and later protecting her while she drifted in and out of consciousness in the security office, but soon their use would gradually run its course and she would be forced to say goodbye forever. Both men did however present their challenges.

Leon Kennedy, a rookie cop with the R.P.D. A loyal and orderly young officer, he was also very inquisitive, a nature that could present a possible problem if encountered again. Normally she would have been forbidden to eliminate an officer of the law, as it would invite a lot of unwanted attention from the authorities and the press, this time things were different and if he got too close, his life would be ended with a bullet to the skull.

Then there was Jake Smith, the man who claimed to be a security operative passing through. That man was an enigma altogether and something was definitely not right about him, a disguise she had been trained to see through during the extensive physical and mental training she had endured while on Rockfort Island. A dangerous aura surrounded the man, rendering him to unpredictable to let go alive. He had to be silenced if encountered again.

Rounding a corner, the woman found a large black pockmark from a detonated explosive and lying on the floor nearby, a security guard whose leg had been severed just above the knee. Charred body parts lay nearby, including the upper torso of a zombie crawling weakly towards the dead guard's body. The woman raised her gun and fired a single round through the creature's temple, leaving it sag to the scarred floor.

The woman smiled to herself for the first time in hours as she had not been nearly knocked from her feet by the gun's powerful recoil, showing that the pills were taking effect and she was beginning to regain some control.

Gently stepping away from the wall, Ada took a few baby steps and a few deep breaths before pushing herself away from the wall. It took some time getting used to, but she managed to continue walking down the hall with a slight limp and picked up speed while being careful not to touch her wound.

Moving further down another long corridor, she happened across two more viral carriers hobbling about mindlessly, but felled them quickly the second they took notice of her. One of them had been a security guard who dropped a special key and the woman moved as quickly as she could. Knowing that kneeling down would aggravate her injury, Ada found a broken broom and broke it off on the railing, with pieces sticking out she used it to slide through the key ring and lifted it up.

Studying the tag, it read "For Authorized Personnel Only: Main Reactor Core Access."

A wicked grin crossed the spy's features as she had just found her needle in the haystack and was one step closer to accomplishing one of her mission objectives. There was still the issue of finding the elusive G-Virus, but that could always wait.

Looking up, the young woman found exactly what she was looking for and the grin grew even wider to reveal the pearly white teeth she rarely showed. Before her stood a large reinforced door with flashing red lights overhead labeled "Main Reactor Core." To the right of the massive door stood a regular keyhole rather than the average card reader, a sight truly out of place in a high-tech facility like the underground research station. Even Ada was stumped by the sudden change as she approached the slot and turned the key, another hiss of hydraulics following as the door began sliding open.

The massive room was the size of an amphitheater with catwalks above lined with enough computer banks to put the entire U.S. Department of Defense to shame. At the center of the room was one large reactor core reaching through the room's vaulted ceiling that powered the entire facility. Sticking out like a sore thumb at the base of the reactor core was one large computer with a literal jungle of wires connected to it.

"This must be it," Ada thought to herself walking carefully towards the massive computer with gun raised. Moans sounded around her and judging by the distance, she was sure they were probably from above. They didn't bother her one bit as she knew her objective stood before her and that was her only business here. Any remaining threats would soon be incinerated in one massive eruption.

Approaching the computer, she was surprised to find another dead researcher lying against the board with a bullet in the side of his head. Knowing it was no longer a threat to her; she nonchalantly kicked the corpse aside and sat down at the controls. Immediately she started cycling through the menu and typed in the commands to activate the facility's self-destruct mechanism. Within seconds she had completed one mission objective.

"There, easy as cake," she said with a smile punching the ENTER key. The self-destruct timer was set for forty-five minutes, with a ten minute failsafe for personnel to reach minimum safe distance and an audio warning at the five minute mark and after that the real countdown would begin, should be plenty of time for her to make her escape. "If my damned wounds don't act up and I can find the virus, then I can get the hell out of here," the spy said aloud looking down to the wound, which had mostly clotted over by now, but was still in danger of becoming infected and she would need more medical supplies fast.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Following a couple blasts from his customized shotgun, the flock of approaching zombies found itself knocked over the railing and into the abyss below.

Leon gasped heavily and reclined against the nearby support railing, physically drained from all the fighting he had been doing over the past few hours. The rookie officer had just recently survived the cramped V.A.M. room battling another small group of zombies in order to retrieve a MO Disk. He had now gone for more than an entire day without rest and very little in the way of an adequate meal and his latest adrenaline rush was wearing thin. If he didn't get at least a catnap in soon, he would probably collapse and fall prey to the monsters lurking about.

Another thing keeping him going was the thought of his fellow survivors. It had been hours since he had heard anything from Jake or Claire and he had gone back to the security lounge in search of Ada, only to find she had mysteriously vanished. If anybody else was still alive in this place then he had certainly not found them yet. Just the thoughts of this made him way to give Jake or Claire a call and he reached down for his radio, only to find nothing.

"What?" he blurted out loud, but then suddenly realized what had happened. During the skirmish in the V.A.M. room, a zombie had gotten dangerously close and managed to grab him, only to have the officer jam the muzzle of his shotgun in its mouth and pull the trigger. Maybe the radio had fallen out during that dangerous encounter.

"I have to get back in touch with them," Leon said aloud rushing back into the hall he had just emerged from and bolted towards the V.A.M. room throwing the door open.

The V.A.M. room was exactly the way he had left it, a bloody mess. The once sterile laboratory, which looked more like an operating room, was already a mess when he first entered and encountered the five zombies stumbling about, but once he put his shotgun to use, the mess tripled.

Puddles of blood and bits of brain matter still covered the floor, walls and nearby gurney, soaking a set of once sterilized surgical tools making it look like they had just been used in an excessively bloody operation, but that was not the case. The five corpses still lay lifeless in the cramped room with their heads blown clean off and no danger of reanimating once again. It was near the same corpse that had once grabbed him that he found his aforementioned radio, thankfully not lying in a pool of still wet blood.

Leon turned the radio on, but there was too much interference from the nearby machinery so he knew he would have to try calling in a different location. "Might have to go back to the hall or in that large junction room," he whispered to himself as he put the radio back in its holder and readied his shotgun once again.

"You!"

An angry female voice struck him head-on followed by the cocking of a handgun.

Before the rookie officer stood a middle-aged blonde-haired woman in a white lab coat holding a Browning HP in her quivering right hand. It was the woman from the sewers, Annette Birkin, the woman who had shot him and she looked ready to strike again.

"You and your friend murdered my husband!" the woman shouted with enough force to cause an avalanche. "I know what you're looking for…" the woman trailed off and pulled out a foot-long tube shaped like a cigar filled with a purple liquid. "You came for the G-Virus, didn't you? You'll never take it from me; this is my husband's legacy!"

"What the hell are you talking about? I'm a cop with the R.P.D.!" Leon shouted back keeping his shotgun held protectively close.

"Now where's that spy you were working with earlier? You know who I'm talking about…" Annette demanded, her lips curling into a wolf-like snarl.

"What?" Leon shouted in disbelief, struggling not to drop his guard at the woman's words.

"You really don't know anything, do you?" the researcher replied with a cruel laugh, "You're so gullible. She's one of the operatives sent here by the agency. The only reason why she came here is to obtain the G-Virus.

The words hit Leon like a freight train and his cool features suddenly morphed into a mask mixing anger and disbelief. "That's a lie!" was all he could shout back in an almost infantile defiance.

Annette only chuckled harshly, "No, it's the truth. I discovered this when I did a background check on her. She specifically got close to John and became his girlfriend to get information about Umbrella."

The woman's accusations assailed the rookie officer like an opponent's fists and he could no longer hide his disbelief. "That can't be!" Leon half-shouted, "I know her; Ada wouldn't do something like that!"

"That's not all I'm afraid, dear Officer," Annette continued, "That mysterious man in black you've been running around with, I'm afraid he's not who he says he is either, Jake Smith I believe you call him…"

"What about Jake? What about him?" Leon spat back at the woman, knowing she was probably going to level more accusations.

"I'm afraid your newfound friend isn't on the right side of the law, someone you should be locking away in the nearest cell rather than trying to escape with," Annette said pulling out a folded up piece of paper and opening it up for the officer to see.

Leon nearly paled when he saw the image on the piece of paper.

In the woman's hand was a wanted poster and shown on the mug shot was the dark stare of Jake Smith looking forward with eyebrows slanted, piercing the soul of anyone who dared to view the harsh picture, and a side profile view which slightly eased the tension away from his rock hard gaze, but not by much.

"Wanted dead or alive, Jacob Randolph Cavanaugh a.k.a. The Red Dragon. Wanted by federal authorities for numerous counts of murder, armed robbery, illegal weapons smuggling, extortion, counterfeiting, property damage and numerous other offenses." The poster also displayed the man's physical details, all of which appeared to fit Jake's description, including the mention of tattoos, only one of which the officer had managed to spot, some weird kind of Chinese writing on his right forearm. Towards the bottom above the listed reward of five hundred thousand dollars in cash was a list of aliases used by the criminal, one of which included "Jacob Smith."

"No…" Leon whispered quietly to himself in utter horror and disbelief. He didn't know if he could believe the accusations made against Ada, but here he was given physical proof that Jake Smith was really not who he said he was. All this time, he had been fighting alongside a wanted fugitive located right here in Raccoon City of all places, his purpose unknown.

"If you don't want to believe it, I don't really care. You're about to die anyway," the woman spoke in sinister tones and raised the gun to fire.

Before the gun could be discharged, the corridor suddenly jolted violently and both people were nearly knocked from their feet.

"Wh…what happened?" Annette blurted out.

A robotic female voice called out to answer their new dilemma, "The self-destruct system has now been activated. This sequence may not be aborted. All remaining personnel should evacuate the premises immediately. This facility will self-destruct in approximately 45 minutes."

"This must be her doing…" Annette called out again, "That tramp must have activated the self-destruct sequence!"

The corridor jolted even harder this time and debris fell from the ceiling around the two survivors and within seconds, a large pipe fell from above and struck Annette in the back of her head, sending her crumpling to the floor.

"Fuck!" Leon shouted as more debris began falling around him and he barely dodged a large falling boulder, "Looks like I'm gonna have to wait to contact the others!" he shouted aloud and quickly ran over to the prone researcher, snatching up the G-Virus sample and slipping it into a compartment on his belt. The woman's words about Jake Smith, or "Cavanaugh" as his real name was, still rang fresh in his head and as an afterthought, he scooped up the wanted poster and slid it into his pocket.

"I don't know who you really are Jake, but when I find you again I'm going to demand some answers," the officer thought to himself returning to his feet and rushing out the nearest door leading back to the junction room.

Sirens blared and klaxons flashed throughout the large octagonal-shaped junction room, the extreme barrage of noises and flashes threatening to drive him insane right on the spot. He forced himself to press forth and it was through one of the entranceways he saw a darkened figure standing, hoping it was somebody he knew he rushed through.

"Hey!" he shouted with shotgun held closely as he ran through the center and onto the nearest bridge, where he was met by three figures.

The first figure was a woman he had never seen before, in a filthy red business suit with an M-4 assault rifle in hand. Standing on the opposite side was a slightly older male with shaggy reddish-brown hair past his ears and wearing a soiled R.P.D. uniform similar to his, it was also a familiar figure.

"Leon?" the man asked, lowering his mini-gun.

"Kevin?" Leon asked right back, overjoyed to see an old friend still alive and well in this mess.

Between the two individuals stood the familiar figure of a man in a black trench coat who had his back towards him and slowly turned to face him.

"Jake?" the rookie officer shouted to the man, falling back in fear. He had expected to find Jake Cavanaugh eventually, but this had been much too earlier than he bargained for.

A wanted fugitive stood before him and in between one of his closest friends and an innocent woman fighting for her survival, a very dangerous one as well.

"There you are!" Jake shouted back over the wailing sirens, like he expected the officer to suddenly pop up. "We've been looking all over for you; don't you think it's about time we blow this Popsicle stand?"

Leon remained speechless, visibly terrified of the wanted criminal, whose deception had fooled him for so long. How could he be so stupid? Deep down he could only think that he was going to get himself and the others killed.

"Leon, buddy are you alright?" Kevin said walking over and grabbing him by the shoulder, shaking him lightly. "Talk to us man, it's me your old buddy Kevin!"

Kevin Ryman, the young veteran officer who helped put in the good word for him with the R.P.D., stood next to him trying to snap him back to reality, but would he be around much longer with a dangerous criminal behind him?

"Alyssa, you'd better help me with him!" Kevin shouted back to the woman.

Mentioning her name now rang a bell with the rookie, she was Alyssa Ashcroft, an investigative reporter with the Raccoon Press known for her razor-sharp wit and take no prisoners approach with her stories, especially not afraid to take potshots at those in power. She stood next to the criminal and was about to rush over to help out.

"No!" Leon suddenly shouted raising his free hand, "I'm fine really, I'm just glad to see you're all okay."

It hurt the man to lie to his friend and fellow survivor like that, but the sad thing was they seemed to trust this criminal and showed absolutely no fear while in his presence, like they too had fallen for his charade. He also feared that if he said anything right now, then the man would probably snap and kill all three of them.

The cocking of another pistol soon rang out from behind, killing his current train of thought.

Turning around, the four survivors came face to face with the wounded Ada Wong, a look of fierce determination on her face as she kept her gun trained on the four people.

"Ada!" Leon shouted, not knowing whether to feel relieved or worried. The attractive, yet mysterious woman he had arrived with now stood before him with gun drawn. "Oh god, please don't let what Annette said be true," was all he could think staring down the barrel of the gun.

"I've been waiting for you, Leon…" the woman spoke in her cat-like purr, almost as disarming as her physical beauty. However, there was nothing seductive about her right now.

"Wha…what are you doing?" the officer shouted back not knowing whether to raise his shotgun or what.

"What's going on Leon? Who is she?" Kevin shouted from behind drawing his Colt .45, worried gaze darting back and forth between his friend and the mysterious woman. Alyssa stood silently next to him with M-4 in clammy hands, shooting a dirty look in the mysterious woman's direction.

"You know what this is about," Ada said inching closer, "So just hand over the G-Virus!" she demanded stretching her free hand towards the rookie officer.

"I don't believe this; Annette was right about everything…" Leon grimly replied, the hurt creeping into his youthful voice, "You really are a spy sent by Umbrella."

"I should've known something was up with you all along, lady!" Jake growled, stepping up behind the rookie and raising his MP5.

"You stay out of this!" the woman screamed at Jake, diverting her aim towards him. Ada took a few deep breaths and returned her focus to Leon, "That's why I told you to leave without me, but you wouldn't listen! Now hand it over, don't make me shoot you or any of your friends!"

"Try us lady!" Jake barked defiantly, ready for a good fight.

"Don't do it Leon," Kevin shouted, "You have no idea what she'll do with it!"

"You can't do that…" Leon replied for once trying to reason with the woman. "It's not worth throwing your life away for! Escape with us and you can help us bring these crooked bastards down!"

No immediate reply came from the woman and her aim started to lower. "Leon…" she muttered, in a more innocent, remorseful voice.

"I don't trust her, it could be a trap," Alyssa loudly whispered to Kevin and Jake.

"Me neither," Kevin added, inching closer to Leon.

Jake said nothing, his gaze as solid as steel. The criminal kept his MP5 trained on the woman's chest, but decided he would take her alive for Leon's sake and slowly inched his aim towards her gun, hoping to shoot it out of her hand.

"Leon…I…" Ada muttered, but was cut off by a loud bang.

BANG!

A gunshot rang out and a crimson hole erupted through the woman's right shoulder blade and traveled through an exit wound above her right breast.

"Oh God, Jake, Kevin, what the hell did you just do?" Leon whirled around directing his attention towards the two men.

"Neither of us did anything! I swear!" Kevin shouted back still keeping his focus on the wounded woman.

Ada Wong wobbled from the force of the gun blast and slowly dropped her gun to the metal bridge beneath. Using her remaining strength she attempted to walk forward, but her legs gave out like rubber and she tumbled over the nearby railing.

As the woman tumbled, the familiar face of Annette Birkin appeared from behind stumbling from the center junction.

"G…G-Virus…" the researcher mumbled as she collapsed to the bridge and breathed her last breath as the remaining psycho power ebbed from her system.

"Ada!"

With lightning-quick reflexes, Leon rushed over to the railing and reached downward, grabbing the dying Umbrella spy by the wrist.

"Hang in there Ada," Leon rasped as he struggled to maintain his grip on the woman's thin wrist, "I'm going to pull you up, just bear with me for a second," the cop spoke through gritted teeth, the overexertion taking a toll on his own injury. Pain shot throughout his own body as the woman's weight threatened to rip his bullet wound open again and feared his arm would be ripped from its socket. "Somebody give me some help over here!"

"L…Leon…no," the woman weakly pleaded as her body hung weightlessly in the void below.

Jake ran up behind the duo and picked up Ada's Browning, checking it over for bullets. "It's empty, just what the hell was she trying to accomplish by this?"

"But why? I don't understand. What were you trying to do?" Leon asked the woman he held, his grip loosening with every word.

"I don't know…" Ada sighed, "I thought I was cold-hearted, that I could separate myself from my emotions…But I couldn't bring myself to…" she trailed off looking down to the black abyss below.

"Who are you?" Leon demanded, gradually weakened as the pain and emotions took their toll on him both physically and mentally.

"No one you should ever have cared about…" Ada Wong sadly replied and with a flick of her wrist allowed herself to fall quietly into the chasm below.

"AAAAAAAADDDDDDDDAAAAAAA!" Leon screamed, echoing throughout the massive chamber.

Jake could only watch silently as the woman called Ada Wong disappeared into the blackness below, joined by Kevin and Alyssa who could only watch with mouths agape.

Leon said nothing as he sunk down to his knees, pressing his hands tightly against his head as the torturous wave of emotion washed throughout his body, looking like he was going to rip it from his own shoulders. Remaining silent still, the rookie officer slowly rose back to his feet and withdrew the foot-long vial containing the murderous G-Virus.

"So this is what everyone's been dying for…" he shouted aloud glaring hatefully at the vial which contained a substance so deadly it was a weapon of mass destruction in its own right, able to eradicate the entire human race if ever unleashed from its airtight chamber.

In a blind rage, the officer chucked the vial into the darkness as hard as he could, wanting to get it out of his sight at all costs.

The three other survivors stood quietly around the rookie, silently empathizing with his grievous situation. Finally, it was Kevin who broke the tense silence.

"Hey man, we know you're going through a tough time. We're here for you if you need us."

Leon nodded and flashed a weak half-smile to his friend, "Thanks, I'm going to need everything I can get. Right now, I just want to get the hell out of this nightmare."

"I second that," Alyssa spoke, placing a warm hand on the rookie's shoulder, "Let's get out of here while we're still around to bitch at each other."

"I agree, I say it's time to get the hell out of this shithole," Jake added pointing his MP5 towards the nearest door.

"Well what are we waiting for?" Kevin shouted, "Let's get moving!"

The group of four started towards the exit with Jake taking point, MP5 raised and ready to take down anything that stood in his way. Kevin followed closely behind lugging the hefty mini-gun and Alyssa following with M-4.

Leon was the last to move, holstering the shotgun and withdrawing the powerful Desert Eagle he discovered back in the station's night watchman's quarters. The gun had been a powerful ally in his numerous battles against Umbrella's B.O.W. monstrosities and his gut feeling told him he was about to use it again. Somehow the death of Ada steeled him mentally for what was to come and he suddenly didn't feel much fear anymore. A great blow was going to be struck against the insidious Umbrella Corporation before he exited the nightmare Raccoon City had become, something he could guarantee.

Still, there was also the matter of Jake Cavanaugh, the elusive career criminal who for so long had masqueraded as a simple passerby in the wrong place at the wrong time. The truth had surfaced, at least to the rookie officer, and what would happen from there he had no idea, but could only pray for the safety of his friend Kevin and newfound acquaintance in Alyssa. Unbeknownst to them, they were traveling with a ruthless cold-blooded killer who would probably stab both of them in the back once this adventure had ended and Leon wanted to be there to make sure that wouldn't happen.

It was almost sickening to know they had been so unwittingly deceived, they almost trusted the mysterious man as if he were one of their closest friends. Despite this knowledge, they had managed to come this far thanks to Jake Cavanaugh's assistance, and even a part of the rookie cop himself wanted to trust the man because he had helped him numerous times throughout the R.P.D., the sewers and right now in this research facility. That could not be though as too much trust would eventually get him killed.

However, he could not just strike the man from behind when he least expected it as it would create chaos amongst him and the others, plus it would be a dishonorable action unbecoming of an officer of the law and despite this current situation, it was still his duty to follow things by the book.

As much as he hated to do it, for now he would have to set aside his feelings and work with the criminal as his own survival and that of his two friends depended on it. When the time was right, he would reveal the truth and make his move to apprehend the wanted fugitive.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The abyss was not bottomless as believed to be and after what seemed like an eternity, Ada Wong struck the ground with a sickening thud that shattered almost every bone in her body and ruptured several vital organs. How she survived the fall itself was a total mystery, but right now she was just seconds away from dying.

A single tear rolled down her sunken cheek as her last thoughts focused around the youthful rookie she had met named Leon Kennedy and how she thought what could have been. These would seemingly be her last thoughts as darkness enveloped her and threatened to take her away to an unknown fate.

"Ah, there you are!" a familiar icy voice called out and the sound of footsteps followed.

Using her remaining strength, she opened up one eye to view a blurry figure hovering above her and looked like it was kneeling down towards her. Before she could put a name to the face however, the torturous pain she endured was suddenly gone and she was overcome by a sudden wave of serenity. Things felt very nice and relaxed with her head seemingly in the clouds and with this relief came a deep sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"There, be lucky I showed up just in time Ms. Wong, or else you wouldn't be receiving this second chance," The Man smiled rising back to his feet and looked down to the empty needle he had just used.

Inside the needle had been a special concoction created by his employers that could literally turn back the effects of death, but could only be used on someone still breathing and near death, an already deceased person would remain dead forever. The Man himself was a very important asset to his company and had been given several vials of the potion to be used had he found himself in a similar position, but now someone else needed it more than he did.

Additional footsteps followed from behind and The Man turned to find Commander Karkian approaching him flanked by ten additional commandos. Heavy breathing noises emitted from the commander's gas mask, along with his rushed pace indicated he was extraordinarily pissed off about something right now.

"Commander Karkian, glad to see you once again," The Man spoke in a casual tone, unafraid of his subordinate's well-known temper, "I take it you may have found something of interest in your last minute patrol?"

"Cut the crap!" Commander Karkian barked angrily and reached into a compartment, pulling out the remnants of a tattered black t-shirt with an elaborate red dragon design on the front and raised it high for his superior to view.

"You lied to my men and told them that Cavanaugh would remain out of their way! That bastard has just murdered two of my men and I found this wrapped around the throat of one of them, along with three rounds in the man's skull." Karkian was in a rage and ready to spill some blood. Beneath their masks, his toughened soldiers actually showed signs of fear and fought to avoid making noise.

"If that was the case, then your men violated the orders given," The Man continued, "They were told specifically not to interfere in Cavanaugh's mission. It was their stupidity that cost them and they paid for it."

Rage boiled in the commander's veins and right now he seriously wanted to fire a few rounds into The Man's chest, but held off knowing it would lead to his eventual dismissal and very likely, death. His rage could not be disguised though.

Despite the shady nature of the company which employed him, Karkian was still a leader first and foremost who cared about his men as if they were his own family and was deeply troubled whenever one of them fell while under his command. The commander was even against the idea of using rookie operatives in this mission and other soldiers who had no previous experiences combating the B.O.W. menace. He lobbied for only Gold Squad to be sent into the facility for this volatile retrieval mission, but The Man wouldn't listen and insisted that an entire platoon be brought in. As he suspected, there had been many casualties throughout the course of the night and he constantly kicked himself mentally for not being more forceful in his requests, but then again he also knew who he was dealing with when he signed up for this mission.

"Well that bastard Cavanaugh still murdered two of my men and I want his severed head!" Karkian roared staring intently at the red dragon design, "If you ask me, he's been your pawn long enough and I say he's outlived his usefulness, and I sure as hell want the first shot," the commander spoke raising his M-4.

The Man clamped his hand over the M-4's muzzle, "Patience Commander, if Mr. Cavanaugh refuses my generous offer, then you will have your chance."

Temporarily diverting his subordinate's attention, both men turned their attention to the broken form of Ada, who lay in an awkward position, yet with a look of tranquility upon her delicate features.

"For now, let's focus on Ms. Wong. She will need to be escorted out of here in her present condition. There is a nearby tram in Sector B-2, which is now your designated escape point. Get Ms. Wong out of here and to the nearest facility. Those are your orders," The Man spoke in a firm, authoritative tone.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend."

The Man picked up his briefcase and went about his way as two of Commander Karkian's men pulled out a stretcher and carefully lifted Ada's prone form.

It was a very important meeting and he could not afford to be late.

Author's Note: Well I know this chapter is slightly shorter than my previous, but this is intended a sort of "buffer" or "in between" chapter leading into the events of the next chapter. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	39. Chapter 34: Evil Never Rests

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Chapter 34: Evil Never Rests

Sirens blared and blood red lights flashed all around them as Jake and his motley crew of survivors made their way into the corridor that would eventually lead them to the blast doors they had to go through.

"Okay, we're getting closer, better be ready for any last minute threats before we decide to get the hell outta here!" Jake called back to the others from the front of the pack.

The adrenaline pumped through his system as he ran down the corridor sensing that his final battle had not yet begun. The mutant formerly known as William Birkin still survived and would probably make his presence known once again with an even greater vengeance, but the criminal was on full alert and ready for whenever he may strike.

Running at the front of the pack, Jake turned back to observe his companions.

Leon Kennedy was right behind him; staring intently back at him as he followed closely behind with the heavy customized Desert Eagle in hand. Ever since they had reunited, the rookie cop had been looking at him much closer, almost as if he knew something. Jake knew that look when somebody knew something they weren't supposed to and if the man tried anything funny he wouldn't hesitate to fight back. For now, things were cool.

The young cop probably felt some anger over what had happened to Ada back on the bridge. He was perfectly entitled to his own emotions, but Jake still didn't get what he could have seen in that woman after the way she nearly tried to kill him.

Alyssa Ashcroft was nearly running alongside the rookie cop still clutching the M-4 she had been given tightly. The reporter's demeanor had quieted much after the battle with the Tyrant-002, which was a good thing now enabling them to focus more on what possibly lay ahead of them. She too stared at him oddly, for what reason he didn't know. He did know for sure that she was going to have one huge scoop when they made it out of this mess.

Kevin took up the rear jogging behind while lugging the bulky mini-gun and trying hard not to knock over Leon and Alyssa. The officer still maintained the optimism he knew from several nights before, all he had left to keep his sanity in the nightmare. The fact that one of his closest friends had also survived this long was another comforting factor to the officer that kept him from breaking down, for that the criminal felt some relief for the man.

The four battered survivors weaved around the smoking corpses left by one of Jake's previous ventures through the area and were about to approach the open foyer when they heard another chorus of moans before them. Rounding the corner, another large group of manufactured laboratory zombies stood around stupidly waiting for a meal to come their way. Utilizing their skill keen sense of smell, the zombies came to life once the four survivors stepped within a few feet of them.

"We've got these freaks Kevin, save that ammo for the bigger ones," Jake shouted back raising his MP5 and letting loose on the undead. Alyssa stood next to him firing away with M-4 and Leon joined in, holstering the magnum and pulling out his customized Remington. Kevin temporarily set down the mini-gun and again withdrew his dual Ingram Uzis, the four of them cutting a path of devastation through the marauding horde of zombies until the last one fell over dead.

"I hope that's the last we have to see of these walking corpses," Kevin said never taking his eyes off of the still bodies while bending down to pick up the mini-gun.

"I wouldn't doubt it," Leon replied, "something just doesn't feel right."

"Well there are four of us this time around," Alyssa added, "If anything else gets in our way then we should have an easier time taking them down."

"In a few minutes we'll hopefully be on a train and far away from here," Kevin spoke, "If we're lucky we won't have to use much ammo. Right now I'm just going to focus on getting to wherever this takes us and finishing those beers I never got to the other night."

"Same old Kevin," Leon chuckled, some of the humor returning to his voice, "Always goes in looking for the nearest bar and comes out with a tab the size of Mt. Rushmore."

"Alright, I think we've found the way there," Jake said breaking up the little interlude. The criminal stood near a set of blast doors examining a card reader that would disengage the security lock. "I remember being told these doors require a MO Disk to bypass, any of you find anything?"

His three companions looked to each other before Leon stepped up uneasily pulling a black disk from his back pocket. "I found this in the V.A.M. Room; it should help us bypass those doors." The officer then walked past Jake without a word and slid the disk into the small slot. Kevin and Alyssa both looked tensely to one another awaiting results until they heard a loud beep and a light flash green. Groaning under the pressure of rare use, the doors slowly opened and they were presented with another dimly-lit corridor.

"Let's move! Go! Go! Go!" Jake hollered, sounding like a squad leader leading his troops into battle. Leon and Alyssa both ran in first followed closely by Kevin. Looking around for any other threats or survivors, the criminal hastily punched down on the button that would close the door behind them and chased after the others.

"Okay, looks like we've got another panel here!" Leon called out from ahead as Jake entered the room. The room he entered was another large sort of "storage room" lined with red stasis tubes and at the end another massive set of blast doors where Leon and Alyssa stood near the panel trying to figure things out.

"Alright, I think you push this button," Alyssa said typing away at the panel a few seconds before being rewarded with a beep. A blue light flashed over set of double doors and they thought they had something.

"It looks like we got somewhere, but this damn thing is going to take forever to load up," Leon sighed looking up to the lights above indicating when the tram would be fully charged for another trip. "Whatever we do, it's going to have to be one trip for all of us at the same time, no questions asked or else there won't be time for another trip back."

"So what do we do while we sit around and wait?" Alyssa asked with a roll of her eyes, "Play charades or some other kiddy game?" she spoke with sarcastic humor.

"Too bad we don't have the booze and table, we could've played a few rounds of beer pong then," Kevin laughed slightly, "Damn, we're going to be here for a while. If the blast doesn't kill us, old age certainly will."

"Don't say that man; nobody is going to die today!" Leon declared staring at the blast doors with customized Desert Eagle raised. "We've come this far and I have no intention of giving up anytime soon."

"I sure as hell don't plan on it either," Jake cut in, "Umbrella has too much blood on their hands for us to just call it quits like this. Believe me; being stuck in this shithole for the past few days has me wanting to put a bullet in quite a few skulls."

"Heh, in all my years of investigative journalism, I did a whole bunch of stuff I never could have imagined," Alyssa replied with a light-hearted laugh. "Defeating monsters large enough to cut through an entire army, digging up information on an international conspiracy, discovering a manmade virus…I've done it all."

"I'm confident you'll be able to add 'living to tell the tale' to that list, although I don't think this is a tale to be telling the grandkids in the future," Leon quipped standing near the double doors.

"I sure as hell don't. Heck, I probably won't even be able to tell a psychiatrist once we get out of here," the reporter answered.

"It's something we'll never forget, but it's better to tell somebody than leaving it bottled in for so long," Kevin spoke from behind.

Jake stood back in his own little world still contemplating where Birkin was and if he would get the chance to eliminate the former researcher and complete his task. He was this far along and doubted it would be an easy task to ditch his fellow survivors at this point in time, it was possible that this self-destruct sequence could destroy the mutated doctor and thus help him in completing his mission objective. Right now a main concern was the lift powering up so he could live long enough to see his objective completed.

"Dang it, all this standing around waiting has me needing to take a piss right now," Kevin grunted starting to hop up and down antsy.

"Just don't do it near me," Alyssa hollered turning away from the cop.

Jake remained silent ignoring the odd looks he was getting from Leon and Alyssa for not speaking in several minutes. What happened in the room right now was of no interest to him.

Deep inside, the man's internal radar that sensed danger around him suddenly began going haywire and he slowed his breathing to remain as quiet as he possible could, listening for the movement around him. He could sense that something massive was nearby and ready to make its presence felt, something definitely not friendly.

"Uh Jake, hello?" Alyssa asked the criminal walking up near him and waving her hand before his face.

The criminal could hear her perfectly, but ignored her motion locked deeply in a trance, intent on figuring out what was near them.

"Hello, Jake? You there?" Leon asked grabbing the criminal by his shoulder.

Jake reacted deftly snatching the officer's hand, "Shh! Shut up and don't move. I can sense something."

Leon and Alyssa both looked to each other and then looked over to Kevin, who shared a similar look of concern. By now the three survivors had been around Jake long enough to know to take his warning seriously and quieted down, listening for whatever it was he could seemingly hear and they couldn't.

"What is it? I don't hear anything," Kevin nervously shouted only to earn a sharp glare from the younger man.

"If I were you I'd shut the fuck up and keep that gun of yours ready," Jake shot back and then resumed his quiet trance.

Kevin was about to reply when a loud clank resounded throughout the massive room.

"What the hell?" Alyssa blurted aloud, placing a white knuckle grip on the rifle.

A large dent appeared in the ceiling tile right above the double doors. The ceiling tile appeared to be too sturdy for a Hunter to break through like they had done back in the testing chamber, so there was only one other creature he could think of capable of that feat of strength.

"Birkin…" the criminal growled readying his MP5 and keeping a close eye on his S&W as well.

Another loud crash was heard and a second sizeable dent appeared in the same ceiling tile.

"Come on you ugly bastard, I haven't got all night," Jake whispered towards the beast, "Let's get this over with once and for all."

The criminal then focused his attention on Leon, who looked back to him with a similar look of determination. "Ready for another round?" he asked the stalwart rookie.

"Guess I'm ready as I'll ever be," Leon replied looking intently towards the buckling tile with Desert Eagle raised, "I just hope we have enough ammo to take the thing down. I remember watching how that thing mutated into something bigger and meaner the last time we faced it and we barely had enough to drop it. How can we be certain we'll have enough this time around?"

"Guess we're just going to have to find out one way or another," Jake answered.

The tile buckled again, this time accompanied by an animalistic roar both men knew all too well. Kevin stood next to them with mini-gun raised, anxious to let loose a volley of screaming metal into another monstrosity.

"Settle down pal, you'll get your chance," Jake nodded to the cop, who ignored him and continued pointing with an itchy trigger finger.

The primordial beast above struck the tile a few more times before it finally gave way and came crashing down to the ground with enough force to shake the entire room. From the darkness emerged a further mutated William Birkin, now an eleven foot tall giant with clawed arms even larger than their last encounter and rows of teeth where its chest should have been.

"What the hell?" Alyssa shouted again visibly frightened by the mutated researcher, "Who or what is that?"

Jake's lips curled into a smirk and he turned to Kevin and Alyssa, both of whom had no idea what they were about to fight. "Kevin, Alyssa, meet Dr. Birkin!"

The former William Birkin looked at the four survivors and seemed to sniff the air to determine who they were. Drawing its arms back and throwing its head into the air, the mutant let out another ungodly roar that threatened to deafen them.

"Yeah, I'm happy to see you too Dr. Birkin!" Jake shouted and squeezed the trigger of the MP5, firing an entire clip into the mutant's chest. Leon, Kevin and Alyssa all opened fire simultaneously upon the creature.

The bullets hammered away at the former human's massive form as it stood there, seemingly oblivious to the rounds even as the blood drained from its body and showered the nearby equipment. With a loud heave the massive beast began plodding after the four survivors.

Kevin manned the frontline, tearing away at the beast's leathery surface with the massive mini-gun chattering loudly in his gloved hands, the treaded fabric being the only thing keeping the weapon from jumping from his hands. Despite the number the piece of artillery had done on the Tyrant-002, the G-Virus Tyrant only seemed slightly fazed by the ripping rounds and only grunted slightly as if it were an ordinary human being stung by a bee.

Jake stood behind him, letting loose with the MP5, aiming high for the creature's face, and whenever it moved its back arm, the large eye that seemed to be a source of weakness for the creature when struck. If he wanted to do significant damage he would have to strike the eye. If it worked before then in certainly could work again. Once again he saved the S&W as a last resort, confident of the strength in numbers he now had with the three others by his side.

Alyssa fired away with the M-4, adopting Jake's similar strategy of trying to strike the beast in its facial area. In the span of seconds she had already exhausted one clip on the mutant and was already quickly burning away her latest. She was not a trained soldier of course and thus did not know of many ways to take this abomination down; she would probably need a Howitzer, battle tank or even a nuclear warhead to drop this freak of nature. "Hopefully that would only be if it was me alone against this freak," she thought to herself, showing some confidence in the abilities of the trained professionals she fought alongside. "Maybe I shouldn't have been so hard on the R.P.D. after all, even if they had failed to catch the slimebags who broke into my apartment and ticketed me when I wasn't even in a no parking zone."

Leon flanked Kevin from his right, firing away with the customized Desert Eagle magnum that had become one of his best friends in Raccoon City. At the moment he fought alongside his close friend Kevin Ryman, the hard-nosed investigative reporter Alyssa Ashcroft and the wanted fugitive Jake Cavanaugh. He could not divert his attention, but he knew the man stood next to him and for now did he only trust the man knowing that he was fighting against the same menace as them. Once this battle was over, it would be a whole different story. Friend or not in a case like this, he was still a wanted fugitive who had to be brought to justice before he could kill again. Ejecting the empty clip, the rookie officer snapped a fresh clip into place exactly the way he had been taught at the academy, an action he had repeated numerous times over the past two days. This was a battle he was determined to win.

The survivor's combined firepower continued ripping away slowly at the former researcher's seared and blistering skin, but still it inched towards them like it was nothing and let out a slight roar before drawing one of its arms back.

"Scatter!" Kevin cried and ducked down to barely avoid the massive swipe. Leon and Jake immediately split up and began firing from opposite sides of the room, while Alyssa had managed to slip underneath one of the beast's claws thanks to its greater height and pumped an entire clip into the back of the creature's head.

Jake stood at the corner of the aisle taking cover behind one of the stasis tubes. During its initial assault, the mutated researcher had lowered one of its shoulders, exposing its one large extra eye to an attack. Raising the gun, he quickly fired a torrent of hot lead into the viral-created organ.

The former William Birkin howled in pain as its eye was struck and now turned its attention to Jake. Drawing one of its rear arms back as far as it would go, the beast shot forth and sliced through the stasis tube the criminal had previously hid behind, missing its human target that had rolled underneath the attack.

Seeing the effect Jake's attack had, Leon also took aim for the eye from his strategic position and fired a single round with the powerful magnum, sending the beast into a shrieking fit as pinkish liquid sprayed from the organ and drenched the concrete floor beneath.

"Good thinking boy," Jake muttered to himself as he fired a stream into the side of the creature's head, knocking it slightly to the side. "Here you are, nothing more than an animal on the hunt now," the criminal spoke as the beast turned to face him. Its glowing red eyes stared straight into his cool bluish-gray ones, the insecurity completely gone as the adrenaline pumped through his system. "You're an animal now Birkin, but us humans still have the logic to outthink you and if you want us, you're going to have to come and get us!"

The massive mutant ignored the two officers firing upon it as it now remembered the scent of the man in black, the man it had clashed with twice before. Rounding the corner, the beast continued its pursuit towards the man, who still fired madly into its frame.

Seeing that Birkin was now far enough from the others, Jake pulled out another fragmentation grenade and readied to pull the pin, "Everybody fire in the hole!" he hollered and pulled the pin, rolling it towards the beast.

A massive blast followed that nearly knocked the beast from its feet. One of the nearby stasis tubes was damaged as well and the sickly red substance contained began spraying all over the beast's deformed shell, hurting the beast even more as it had a damaging effect on its special skin. Several pieces of skin had been blown away from the Tyrant's surface and purplish-black blood cascaded down its bumpy façade. Live flames covered the creature's body and continued to eat further away at its surface. The attack also had the former human walking with a pronounced limp, exposing its extra eye to further attacks.

"It's eye, shoot it in the eye to weaken it!" Jake screamed to the others and fired upon the exposed organ once again, causing the beast to scream.

Alyssa and Leon both slapped in fresh clips while Kevin's latest bullet line had run dry and he went through the lengthy process of loading the fresh chain. The two other survivors bought him some extra time firing into the creature's additional eye and left it thrashing wildly at the nearby wall.

"Don't forget about me William!" Jake taunted as he peppered the mutant's hide with more screaming rounds. The mutated researcher was greatly irritated as it took gunfire from several directions, flailing its arms wildly hoping to kill more than one of its targets at once. The more pissed off the creature became the more dangerous it would become, but it would also become more susceptible to attacks from other sides while the primary attacker kept it distracted.

The loud chatter of Kevin's mini-gun once again filled the air and within seconds the massive rounds were hammering into the mutant's side, brushing it against the nearest wall and tearing massive amounts of flesh from its side. Still the beast ignored the cop's assault and focused its attention on Jake, who was burning up MP5 ammo firing nonstop into the beast's rough hide.

Bellowing with fury, the beast continued its pursuit of Jake, the others taking this as their cue to take aim for its additional eye.

Hundreds of bullets zinged through the air, most reaching their intended target. Jake ducked low to avoid the other bullets that ricocheted above him, silently cursing his own companions for nearly killing him, but also knowing that they were gradually making progress against the beast, who continued to slow down from the repeated assaults it endured.

Alyssa was close to Jake and now took a firing position next to him, increasing the velocity at which the bullets hammered into the mutant's body and more importantly, its exposed eye.

"Do we almost have it?" Alyssa anxiously asked Jake, stopping to wipe the sweat from her forehead that flowed into her eyes.

"I don't know how much more it's gonna take, just keep shooting its extra eye and we should have it down in no time!" Jake shouted back over the chatter of Kevin's mini-gun.

Leon now took a position behind the beast and fired the remaining rounds from his clip into the beast's extra eye, prompting one last splash of purplish-black blood and pinkish liquid. The attack seemed to have a significant effect on the beast as it staggered towards the two in front of it.

"Now!" Jake shouted and together, he and Alyssa fired what remained of their current clips into the large mutant's remaining eye and it let out one final cry of pain.

The massive beast staggered weakly towards the two humans and looked like it was about to fall flat on its face. A wave of elation fell over Alyssa as she assumed the beast to be dying, while Jake stood quietly next to her waiting to make sure if the beast was in its death throes or not.

"Is it-"

Just when the former William Birkin looked like it was about to fall over dead, the mutant's surface began bubbling again just like it did when Jake witnessed its last transformation back on the tram.

"I don't think so!" he shouted back, knowing what the woman was probably about to ask him.

Looking down upon them, the Tyrant stood there as its body suddenly seemed to shrink. After a few more spasms, the creature now stood on all fours like a dog and with the sickening tearing of flesh and bone, the line of teeth on its chest opened up, revealing a massive mouth that could probably swallow all four of them whole at once.

"We're not home free yet," Jake told the reporter and readied for the mutant's next attack.

Sniffing the air once again, the van-sized beast let out another massive roar that sent both survivors staggering backward and covering their ears, a roar that had nearly deafened the criminal hours earlier when he first arrived at the hellhole beneath the city. He was forced to relive it all over again and the jarring scream was like a jackhammer drilling into his skull, ready to break it in half at any second.

As the two humans had their eyes clamped shut from the deafening roar, the beast crept closer and opened its gaping maw ready to feast on the human adversary it had already clashed with twice before.

"Get away from them!" Kevin hollered at the beast stepping forth and letting loose another barrage of flesh ripping metal into the mutant's rough hide, causing it to once again scream in pain.

William was able to sense the officer behind him and knew he had to get craftier in order to survive. Sensing the row of cylindrical stasis tubes nearby, the mutant used its newfound leg strength to leap high into the air and land atop the row, its target, the other officer wielding the heavy artillery.

"Come down and play with me you freak!" Kevin shouted letting loose upon the mutant firing another salvo in its direction.

The Tyrant was able to sense the rounds being fired upon it and quickly ran away dodging the bullets fired in its direction, just barely keeping ahead of the bullets as they chipped away at its hind legs. Sparks flew behind and burning embers rained down upon the other survivors.

Kevin fired furiously in the beast's direction, knowing that he was rapidly chewing through ammo trying to take down the creature making him twice as desperate. Three additional lives were riding on his shoulders and it was his duty as an officer to protect them while he still had a breath of fresh air left in his body. So far he was doing a good job at distracting the beast hoping to buy the others some time, but the time was also ticking down for him as the beast got closer to him. The closer it got, the more ammo he wasted trying to hit it.

"Now would be a good time to give me some help here damn it!" Kevin shouted to the others. His cry came too late and with a powerful leap, the demonic beast landed before him and sucked the mini-gun into its mouth, clamping down onto the cold steel with gigantic jaws and warping the revolving barrel like it had just bitten into a taco.

"Oh shit…" the officer gasped as he stared wide-eyed into the Tyrant's glowing red eyes.

With a sick grunt, the beast leapt forward and launched its teeth at the officer. Kevin barely had any time to scream as he felt the massive fangs rip away at his clothing and the flesh beneath.

"So this is how I'm going to die, in the jaws of a nightmarish beast that isn't even supposed to exist," the officer thought to himself as he felt the blood drain from his system and the flesh rip from his body.

"Kevin!" Leon cried and began firing at the beast hoping to free his friend from its ferocious jaws. Jake and Alyssa witnessed the officer's predicament and opened fire upon the beast, immediately going for the extra eye embedded in its shoulder.

Magnum, rifle and submachine rounds hammered into the now lion-like beast's rutted surface, eventually catching it in its extra eye and forcing it to release its grasp on the officer.

"Leon, take care of Freak, we'll get Kevin!" Jake shouted to the officer and began his mad dash for the fallen officer with Alyssa in tow.

The rookie nodded, but the others didn't see it and immediately he was firing his magnum at the monstrosity, which had once again taken the higher ground atop the row of stasis tubes.

Kevin Ryman laid on the concrete a bloody mess. The entire upper portion of his uniform had been shredded by the creature's massive fangs and his sewn-in bulletproof vest was rendered all but useless. Two massive slash marks traveled across his chest in addition to numerous lacerations and scrapes. Several bruises covered his chest and arms where the fangs had not yet penetrated, but no bones appeared to be broken.

Jake and Alyssa quickly knelt down on both sides of the fallen officer, who breathed in heavy ragged gasps similar to the Lickers and twitched uncontrollably in shock from what had just occurred.

"Kevin, speak to me," Alyssa cried gently patting the officer underneath his chin.

The fallen officer moved his head back and forth before finally focusing his eyes on the woman's, a worried, death-like stare coming from his.

"Kevin, speak to us!" she shouted, "Let us know you're alright!"

"You…can stop…yelling now…" the officer weakly replied between heavy gasps before breaking down into a coughing fit.

"Quick, let's get him to some damned covering in here if there is any," Jake ordered lifting the prone man's arm and placing it around his shoulder. Alyssa took the other man's arm and looked at the criminal waiting for his signal. "Alright now!" he grunted. With a mighty heave they raised the officer back to his feet despite his cries of pain. The cop's rubbery legs protested against their movement with feet whipping back and forth as they hauled the wounded man over to a corner near the double doors and set him down in a shadowy area.

"Ah! Watch it…damn it!" Kevin grunted as the two survivors quickly set him down into a sitting position, "You…could've at least…put me…in a more…comfortable position…" the officer grunted as lines of blood dribbled from the corners of his mouth.

"Bitch about that later, right now beggars can't be choosers," Jake shot back pulling out some cans of first-aid spray. Thankfully Alyssa had some recovery medicines and haemostatic pills left over which she quickly administered to the bleeding officer. She had also carried some bandages with her and the criminal held the man down as she sprayed the first-aid spray into his opened wounds and then applied the bandages.

"Feeling any better?" Alyssa asked gently tilting the officer's head back, hoping some warmth would return to his eyes.

"Uh…I hope I look better than I feel…ugly fuck just tried to turn me into one large chew toy…" Kevin grunted underneath the pain, actually attempting to insert some humor into his present situation.

"Don't worry, we're not letting you die today, not if we have anything to say about it," Alyssa spoke while working on his bandages.

Kevin smiled thinly even as the blood soaked through his bandages, turning them a sickly shade of crimson. It was a small miracle the man was still around to crack a joke, but despite the woman's treatment, he was still far from being a picture of perfect health. Immediately medical attention would be needed as soon as they made their escape, but it was no doubt that the nearest hospital was probably miles away and chances were very slim there would be immediate access to any working vehicles to get him there.

"S.T.A.R.S. better give me another look when I get out of this mess…" the officer grunted as some of the strength returned to his tone, "…at least then this ordeal might be somewhat worthwhile."

"Just focus on breathing, worry about them later," Jake shot back now returning his attention to the battle between Leon and William, the former barely able to hold off the attacking beast all alone despite his powerful firearm.

Jake checked over his MP5 once again and realized that it had done a decent amount of damage when he managed to strike the beast in its extra eye, but other than that it wasn't doing much against the monster's barely penetrable hide. His dual Berettas would be next to worthless in this fight, as would both his blades he carried.

The hand grenade he had used did a significant amount of damage against the creature, but now his adversary had mutated into something much faster and more agile, getting it to stay in one place long enough would be next to impossible. There was also the issue of the cramped quarters they fought in combined with three other survivors being present, especially when one of them was seriously wounded. Jake would be endangering the others and right now he could not risk that, there was only one last resort now.

Reaching into his shoulder holster, the career criminal withdrew the S&W M629C magnum revolver and gave it a twirl before checking it to see he still had a fully loaded speed loader injected. Smirking to himself, it was time to rejoin the fight.

Jake stood up and looked around for the elusive beast before talking to Alyssa, "Watch over him. Make sure that freak doesn't get within ten feet of either one of you. If you need anything, yell!"

"Right," Alyssa responded, temporarily diverting her attention from the wounded officer, "Just come back alive, I won't be able to hold that thing off alone!"

"You know it!"

Leon ran around the large room trying to create as much distance as he could between himself and the beast. The rookie officer was getting dangerously low on ammo and would fire over his shoulder every time he suspected the beast to be right behind him. Most of his shots would miss however as the Tyrant used its heightened agility to leap around the shots, often leaping atop the rows of stasis tubes to avoid taking fire.

"Damn, I'm running out of ammo again," the rookie cop thought to himself as he missed yet another shot that barely grazed the mutant's tumor-laden hide. He hoped the beast would die soon because he was also running out of breath and about to collapse at any second.

The mutated researcher's enhanced speed had seriously given the officer a run for his money and there were already several instances during the battle where the athletic young officer had barely managed to dodge the mutant's attempted pounce attack. It was only then that he would be close enough to fire a round into the beast's extra eye and temporarily scare it off before it regained the strength to charge after him. Soon he would be out of ammo and he had no idea how his customized shotgun or handgun would work against the infernal monster, especially after witnessing what it did to Kevin's mini-gun.

"There has to be something that can be done," Leon thought to himself, "We've come too far just to give up."

The thunderous cracks of another magnum resounded through the quarters and the beast again shrieked in pain.

Jake had rejoined the battle and fired an entire speed loader into the creature before reloading with seemingly inhuman speed.

"Not time to die yet, kid!" the criminal shouted towards him with a half-smile. Leon honestly didn't know if he was supposed to feel relieved or not at having been saved by a murderous career criminal.

William had once again taken refuge atop a row of stasis tubes and looked down upon his human adversary through glowing blood red eyes that seemed to nearly bulge out of his deformed head as he spied the human below, a look of defiance on the man's rugged features. Its endless hunger became overwhelming and it flared its mouth as bloody drool dripped from its massive fangs. The former human once again longed for the taste of human flesh.

"I've kicked your ass twice Birkin and I sure as hell can make it three if I have to," Jake spoke feeling his adrenaline travel through the large gun he held in both hands as he raised it high and fired a round that caught the beast between its eyes.

The Tyrant roared in pain as its purplish-black blood gushed from the open wound, its trajectory landing the viral substance just inches away from the criminal's feet.

"That's it, shut up and bleed you ugly bitch!" Jake called out to the monster, "There's more where that came from and it all has your name on it!"

Jake fired his remaining rounds all into the mutant's face, its head thrashing violently back and forth as the rounds hammered into its surface. Ignoring the pain wracking throughout its body, the beast leapt down and charged head on towards the career criminal.

"Oh shit, Jake get out of the way, it's going to ram you!" Alyssa called out from her spot as she still tended to the injured Kevin.

"That beast is going to catch him and tear him to shreds," Leon thought watching from the distance, "He might be a lowly criminal, but even he wouldn't deserve such a fate."

"That's it," Jake thought as the mutant charged towards him like a rhino ready to gore its prey. Whirling his body around, the criminal ran towards the nearest wall, looking like was about to run straight into it.

"I can't look," Alyssa cried, covering her face with her hands.

"He's going to hit the wall…" Kevin gasped trying to look forward, but fell back as the pain traveled through his upper body, "Ugh…it's going to get him!"

Both survivors looked away ready to hear the sound of the criminal bumping against the cold, unforgiving concrete followed by the collision of the creature ramming into him and driving its fangs through his body.

Leon stood in the background expecting the eventual impact and braced himself like he was about to be in a car accident. The three survivors remained silent and anticipated the criminal's dying cries, but heard nothing. Within seconds they heard what sounded like a confused grunt from the Tyrant followed by a triumphant whoop from the criminal.

Jake anticipated the creature would try to run him through with its massive fangs and kept running towards the wall. When the time was right, he launched himself into the air and caught both feet against the wall and then with the grace of an acrobat much smaller, used his leg strength to flip himself backwards.

William suddenly stopped his pursuit as the man flipped off the wall in front of him and disappeared. Realizing this, the Tyrant suddenly skidded to a halt and let out a confused grunt.

"Surprise!" Jake called out, landing on the mutant's back.

Feeling the sudden pressure on its back, the Tyrant shrieked fiercely as it realized the human had landed on its back and began bucking to get him off.

"Yippie-kay-yay!" Jake hollered as he rode the beast like a bucking bronco at the rodeo, driving his knife into its hunched back to maintain his grip. The enraged beast continued to bounce around hoping to shake the criminal from its back, but the man's grip was too strong and he reached back for his sword.

"Holy shit, look at him go!" Kevin called out raising his arm weakly to point at the spectacle taking place before them.

Alyssa removed her hands from over her eyes and instantly couldn't believe what she saw. There riding on the creature's back before her was Jake, holding on by only his combat knife as the creature thrashed and bucked violently beneath him looking like he could toss him at any second. The man seemed to show no fear as he fired insult after insult at the beast while he reached for the sword attached to his back.

After some initial struggle, Jake finally pulled out his katana and took a slash at the back of the creature's head, spraying purplish blood onto his lap and took another, completely coating the once gleaming blade in an unknown substance. Drawing his arm back, he then stabbed the blade into the back of the monster's head and twisted it slowly; raising more angered screeching from the beast he rode.

"That's right motherfucker, bleed!" Jake continued to push the blade in as far as it would go. The further it went, the slower the beast began moving and opening it to further attacks. "Don't worry about me, shoot it!" he cried to the others.

Alyssa looked hesitantly down to Kevin and then over to Leon, who displayed a similar look and then back to the creature, whose pace slowed down considerably as the blood dripped from its numerous wounds. Taking aim at the mutant's legs she opened fire. The beast howled in pain as the rounds struck and then groaned weakly as Leon jumped in firing another whole clip into the mutant's body.

When the beast looked like it was in the midst of dying, it suddenly regained its energy. With a violent shake, the Tyrant finally managed to dislodge the blade from its head and shook Jake from its body, sending the man tumbling violently to the ground.

"It's not dying!" Alyssa cried and continued firing at the beast until her latest clip ran dry. "Damn it!" she cursed as she fished around for a new clip, only to find that she had completely exhausted her entire stock of M-4 ammo.

"Alyssa!" Kevin and Leon cried simultaneously.

Looking up again, the reporter instantly stood frozen in horror.

The G-Virus Tyrant stood directly in front of her, its piercing red eyes staring directly into her delicate blue ones. Making no sound, the beast opened its mouth slightly, allowing its rancid breath to brush against her.

Pressing her lips tightly together, the woman fought the urge to throw up as the beast stood before her, taunting her and practically daring her to make a move.

"Ahhhhh!"

With a mighty battle cry, Jake appeared from behind letting loose another six rounds into the monster's backside eventually catching its extra eye. Leon now appeared alongside him and holstered his customized magnum, withdrawing his customized Remington and pumping several rounds into the beast.

Alyssa threw down the empty M-4 and pulled out her Colt Python pumping more rounds into its side. Surprisingly enough, Kevin found the strength to raise his own Desert Eagle and squeezed off a few rounds. Normally used to the recoil of such a large gun, the officer was forced to abruptly give up as the pain shot through his upper body again and the gun fell next to him on the floor.

Frustration rising at taking gunfire from all sides, the G-Virus Tyrant again leapt high into the air and landed atop the row of stasis tubes, scaling the thin row before leaping over to the adjoining row.

"Move out, we've gotta take this freak down!" Jake shouted to Leon, who followed closely behind.

The Tyrant moved more erratically around the open quarters leaping back and forth between the rows of stasis tubes and running down the center aisle. Perhaps the beast was near death and could sense it, trying desperately to avoid any gunfire launched in its direction.

"You're not getting away so easily you bastard," Jake whispered taking aim at the fleeing beast.

Alyssa maintained her position standing guard over the wounded Kevin near the blast doors, waiting anxiously for the lift to power up and firing at the creature whenever it got too close for comfort. She could only hope that the beast was near death as she looked up to the light meter above, indicating that the lift was almost fully charged and ready to take them to safety. "Safety I can only hope," she thought to herself.

The woman was so caught up in her thoughts that she barely registered the loud clunk before her.

Her mind suddenly registering the sound, Alyssa looked down to find an HK-P grenade launcher resting on the concrete before her, calling out to her. The weapon could have only come from one source and she looked up to the opened ceiling tile William had crashed through, catching a brief glimpse of a shadowy figure darting away.

"Thank you…" the reporter said to her anonymous savior and quickly scooped up the weapon. Inside she found twelve shells loaded with liquid nitrogen, capable of freezing anything it touched. She couldn't help but smile knowing now that she possibly held a weapon that could slow the beast down long enough for either Jake or Leon to fire a vital shot and kill it, or to temporarily stun it long enough for them to make their escape.

"Alright, they've done their part for me, now it's my chance to return the favor," Alyssa said to herself carefully positioning the grenade launcher and getting into a firing position, "I might not kill the freak, but only if I can slow it down long enough for both of them."

Taking a deep breath, the reporter waited for the roving creature to slow down long enough for a good shot and took aim. Counting quietly to herself, she exhaled again and pulled the trigger.

The frozen round shot out with a whoosh and a puff of smoke streaking its way towards the Tyrant.

Soaring through the air, the round struck the monstrosity in its side and froze a large portion of its wrinkled skin.

The Tyrant screamed in pain as the skin had been over its hip and greatly hampered its ability to walk. Grunting in exertion, the skin around was heard tearing as the beast attempted to move forward towards the reporter.

"You like that, don't you?" Alyssa taunted as she readied another round, "I figured it was time for you to chill out!" she shouted and fired her next round into the creature's face.

For a few short seconds the G-Virus Tyrant came to a complete standstill, allowing Jake and Leon to fire away at their stunned adversary, including taking potshots at the spot where the previous round had connected, which seemed to hurt it even more.

Flexing its large fangs, after a few loud grunts the creature finally managed to crack the ice and let out another angry roar, deciding to focus its attention on Alyssa. The reporter took a few steps back and continued to fire freezing rounds at the Tyrant, freezing large portions of its mutated body. Wherever her rounds connected, both men were quick to fire upon that spot as it seemed to do more damage to the beast and left it staggering.

Once again hoping to rattle its opponents' nerves, the Tyrant threw its head back and let out another earth-shattering roar, but before it could finish Alyssa had managed to fire another round that caught it in the mouth, silencing the beast and sending it into a choking fit.

"It's working, keep shooting the fucker!" Alyssa shouted and fired a few more freezing rounds into the beast until her launcher ran dry. The reporter cursed quietly to herself, but deep down knew that it was inevitable after all the other ammo she and her companions had just spent trying to drop this mockery of nature. Knowing she still had to try, she again withdrew her Colt Python.

The deep booms of Leon's customized Remington rang out as he pumped shell after shell into the approaching monster, becoming more used to the recoil as he was no longer knocked backwards.

"I signed up to be an officer of the law," he thought to himself, "I should have been filing paperwork, issuing traffic tickets and attending small-time disturbances around the city. Instead I found myself in a city crawling with the undead and other walking nightmares, wonder where fate could have gone wrong. The Lord and his mysterious ways," he continued loading some fresh shells into his chamber while Jake covered him.

Pumping the gun once he stepped up and fired a barrage into the creature's side, spraying more of its seemingly endless supply of blood onto the nearby walls. "We've gotta kill this thing before it gets to anybody else," the rookie thought continuing to fire away at the beast.

Jake loaded his latest speed loader into the S&W, cursing to himself knowing that he didn't have much left. "Damn, this has to be the most I've wasted on this creep yet," he thought to himself watching Leon and Alyssa fire away madly around him and fill the room with smoke from their spent ammunition.

Deep down he still felt a sense of pride as he watched the creature stagger weakly towards them. The Tyrant wobbled unsteadily as blood cascaded down its rough surface from the hundreds of holes all over its body, large clumps now peeling away and dropping to the floor beneath with wet splatters, exposing raw red patches of flesh underneath.

"I think its working, look at it!" Leon shouted next to the criminal.

The Tyrant limped towards them leaving a massive trail of blood behind and its additional eye started dripping its pinkish liquid at an unstoppable pace. Its hind legs barely able to support its bulky frame, the monster let out a weak moan opening its mouth wide, but never closing it as its body ruptured in a dozen places at once and the wounds widened, becoming miniature canyons of blackness.

"Is it dying yet?" Alyssa called out from behind, remaining in her shooter's stance ready to fire if needed.

"Only one way to make sure," Jake replied and unclipped another grenade from his belt. "Get clear!" the criminal shouted to Leon, who quickly retreated towards the other two when he saw what he was about to do.

"It hasn't been nice knowing you Dr. Birkin, but this better be the last time I ever see your ugly face again," Jake spoke and with it, pulled the pin. With a mighty grunt he chucked the grenade into the monster's massive mouth and took off towards the others.

William Birkin tried weakly to turn around after the fleeing criminal, but tripped over one of his front legs and sagged to the ground before the grenade detonated inside of him, destroying large portions of his mouth and drenching everything in a ten foot radius with its oily purplish-black blood.

"Oh my God," Alyssa said softly, "I think it's finally dead…"

"It sure as hell better be after everything it took out of us," Leon replied panting heavily.

"Doesn't look too frightening right now anyway," Kevin spoke craning his neck around his friend's legs to view what remained of the B.O.W.

"Have I finally killed this freak once and for all?" Jake asked himself staring uneasily at the bloody remnants of his target. "William Birkin injected himself with a manmade virus that was supposed to turn him into an unstoppable god-like beast, but can he really be killed if he isn't injected with some kind of antidote?"

"He should be dead, he has to be…" Jake spoke aloud to the others, "Its best we not think about it and just focus on getting the hell out of here."

"I agree with you on that right there," Alyssa replied and turned around to view the meter behind her, seeing that the platform was just seconds away from being fully charged before a loud beep confirmed her hopes. "Yes, finally!" she shouted as the beep rang out above them.

"Access granted, employee transport platform to Level B-4 transit facility now fully operational," a disembodied robotic female voice reported.

The massive blast doors slowly slid open to reveal a platform large enough to support fifteen people and Leon and Alyssa immediately knelt down to help Kevin back to his feet, slowly guiding him onto the metal grated platform before checking to make sure they had everything they needed. Stepping onto the platform last, Jake approached the platform controls and punched in the commands that would let them begin their descent. The blast doors clicked shut behind them and within seconds they were descending towards the transport facility.

Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Jake turned around to face his three companions who all sat closely together displaying mixed looks of relief and sorrow on their sweaty, grime-covered faces. They strangely appeared serene after everything they had endured as they chatted quietly amongst themselves. Perhaps the incidents of the past few days had desensitized them to what fears they knew before Raccoon City, the criminal knew his stay had sure toughened him mentally.

Overall, they came out knowing their experience had been a good cure for their littlest phobias. They came out learning that once you know there are worse things than dying, then dying suddenly didn't seem like such a serious problem anymore.

Kevin and Leon laughed back and forth talking about how all the bars they were going to hit and all the Philadelphia Minutemen games they were going to attend once they made it out of the cursed city and Alyssa sat aside laughing along with them. The three of them seemed genuinely happy to be around each other; perhaps this incident had proven to be a great bonding experience for them. The circumstances under which they had been forced together were unimaginable, spending most of their time together wracked by panic, dodging the ever persistent hand of death and witnessing great losses around them. Despite all of that, they still counted each other as close friends, brought together in the most unlikely ways possible.

Jake however kept his distance. He admired the survivors for their persistence and dedication, but the man still kept himself from getting close to them. It wasn't his personal mission parameters that kept him from getting close to the people, but rather personal experience from the past.

Fate had always seemed to deal him a crooked hand and like a stray black cat, he seemed to bring misfortune and eventually death to anybody who dared getting close to him. People who had suffered in the past under his unwitting hand were people much like him, tortured souls with nothing left to lose, as well as those predominantly on the wrong side of the law. Whoever these people were, they were truly innocent bystanders caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, people who had something left to live for and had otherwise completely normal lives.

"What's the point in getting close to them anyway? They'll all eventually die and I'll end up grieving for them and slow myself down," Jake thought to himself. Many people close to him had died in the past and on several occasions he had almost suffered for it because his emotions had gotten the better of him. "I will not do this to them and I will not do this to myself. The time will eventually come for us to part ways."

The lift continued to descend the shaft, by now brighter lights were shining through the grating beneath their feet, indicating they were getting closer to the transport facility below.

"I hate to interrupt your little coffee clutch, but we're getting closer so you'd better get your asses ready to head out," Jake called over to them staring downward for any incoming threats.

"Typical hard-assed Jake," Kevin chuckled forcing a smile as more pain shot through his chest. Placing both of the older officer's arms around their shoulders, Leon and Alyssa gently eased the man back into a standing position and moved over to Jake, who looked ready to leap off once the platform finished its round.

Within seconds the platform had completed what could very well have been its final stop, depositing the four weary survivors at one of the facility's many transit stations.

To Jake and the others, the Umbrella subway system looked like any ordinary subway station aside from a few minor changes. The walls were a brownish color covered in numerous signs and multicolored stripes that almost made it look like they were inside the Great Pyramids, but several lights hanging along the walls contradicted the feeling with a pale, sickly glow. Railroad tracks ran down through the center of the room with a platform on either side, stretching through an archway and out into what seemed like an endless darkness with only a faint breeze indicating that the tunnel actually had an end.

Waiting before them was a large trolley built on bolted steel panels with enough space to hold a small living room's worth of people, painted red and black and marked with the ever present shield of Umbrella, Inc.

"Shall we?" Jake looked back to the others with a confident smirk.

A shuddering crack sounded overhead, raining dirt and pebbles upon the quartet, pipes above rattling like they were going to fall at any second.

"Sounds like we should," Leon said, pausing to get one last good view of their surroundings. "Almost looks like its going to go before the countdown even finishes. Whatever the case, I sure as hell don't wanna be around to see it."

"Me neither. After everything else I've survived, going up in one huge bonfire definitely isn't the way to go either," Alyssa chirped nudging to indicate she wanted to move.

"And neither is slowly bleeding to death," Kevin grunted, "I'd really like to make it out of this mess alive so we'd better get our asses in gear!"

Jake walked up to the plate glass-lined trolley doors, which opened automatically before he could try prying them open. He was first into the car and swept the interior with his MP5 before announcing it was safe to enter. The criminal then kept his hand in the opened doorway long enough for Leon and Alyssa to help their injured companion inside and over to the nearest padded bench before allowing the doors to slide shut behind them.

Once everything was clear, Alyssa gently laid Kevin and Leon sighed heavily in relief to find a first-aid kit bolted to the nearby wall. He quickly walked over and emptied the contents into his waiting palms before returning to his wounded friend.

Jake sat back on the bench across from them and let out a heavy tired sigh placing the MP5 on the seat next to him, deciding to rest his feet quickly before getting the train operational.

After taking a few deep breaths, the criminal had just risen back to his feet when the whoosh of another automatic door opening startled his three companions, this one coming from inside.

Jake quickly snatched up the MP5 and aimed it towards the door joined by Leon and Alyssa raising their weapons. The three survivors quickly lowered their weapons and breathed a collective sigh of relief only to find a frightened, but very much alive Sherry Birkin standing before them.

"Jake, you made it!" the little girl happily squeaked running over to him and wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Hey kiddo," the criminal replied gently running his gloved hand over her golden locks, "Good to see you're alright." For the first time any of his companions could recall, the faint semblance of a smile appeared on the man's young, yet gruff features.

Following the brief embrace, Jake gently sat the girl down on the bench not far from where Kevin lay, "You stay here and mind the others, I have to get this train operational so we can get out of here."

"No!" the girl shouted suddenly popping up, "Claire! She's still out there! We can't leave without her!"

A massive explosion rang out, nearly knocking Kevin to the floor and throwing the four other survivors backward.

"Oh no…Claire!" Sherry called out scrambling back to her feet and trying to run out the nearest door, only to be held back by Jake's iron grip clamping down on her delicate arm.

"Sherry no, you have to stay in here!" Jake shouted barely struggling as the girl tried to fight against his powerful grip.

"But Claire!" the child protested, fresh tears already rolling down her cheeks. Jake could feel where she was coming from, but knew she had to remain inside or else she would certainly die.

"You have to stay inside," Jake firmly ordered leading the girl by the arm over to Alyssa. "Alyssa, watch her and make sure she doesn't leave your sight." The criminal then turned his attention to Leon, "Leon, keep an eye out for Claire, I'm going to get this train operational!"

With those orders, Jake turned on his heel and made his way into the driver's compartment, which like the tram that had brought him to the facility in the first place, was nothing more than a leather seat with a control panel resting in front of it. The master key was in place and the numerous buttons and screens flashed around him awaiting commands to be input.

"Alright, looks as user friendly as they come," the criminal thought to himself as his fingers began flying across the keys and within seconds the trolley's headlights snapped on and the hum of the vehicle followed.

"All aboard," Jake shouted to the others gathered in the back as the trolley began moving. "This is your captain reporting that the Raccoon Express is now leaving the once beautiful Raccoon City and is now en route to "wherever the hell safety is." Please make sure you have all your personal belongings gathered and keep your hands and other body parts in at all times. That is all, thank you!"

"Wait, I see something!" Leon shouted from the back, peeking his head out the nearby opened door.

"Claire…Hurry up Claire!" the rookie shouted.

Looking out one of the rear windows, Jake could see Claire Redfield sprinting towards the moving train, lugging a large Stinger missile launcher over one shoulder which threatened to drop her with its massive bulk. Despite the burden she bore, the young woman charged with great vigor at the sight of a fellow survivor and didn't appear to slow down one bit.

"Hurry! You don't have much time!" Leon shouted back to the woman. Just as he finished his sentence, the young cop was forced to duck back inside after nearly losing his head on the nearby wall, catching a lever as he fell which opened the side doors manually.

The complex shook violently around them and seemed like it would self-destruct long before the timer had expired as Leon predicted. A massive jolt shook the trolley and several items lining the walls rained to the floor below, prompting the others to throw their arms over their heads. Jake too found himself nearly knocked from his feet and braced himself against the doorway to avoid falling.

A loud clunk resounded in the tight quarters and everybody turned to see the Stinger launcher thrown into the car just inches away from where Leon stood.

"Did she -"

Exactly a second later, the form of Claire Redfield came flying into the car, eliciting a sigh of relief from those in attendance.

"Claire!" Sherry cried out happily, trying to crawl towards the woman, but remained firmly held back by Alyssa and Kevin.

"Is that everybody?" Jake called out from the driver's compartment looking back to make sure his companions were still alive.

"Yes, we're alive now get us out of here!" Alyssa shouted back, wrapping one arm around Kevin and the other around Sherry's shoulders.

The train shuddered violently, prompting frightened shrieks from the three women in attendance while Kevin was finally thrown from the bench and cried out in pain, and Leon was thrown forward onto the bench in front of him bringing a sore grunt from his lips.

"Everybody stay down!" the rookie hollered rolling down to his knees and bracing himself against the bench. The violent rumbling continued for a few seconds before abruptly stopping and all seemed normal again.

"Is everything okay back there?" Jake called out again, clamping onto the sides of the entrance in case another quake were to follow.

"Yes, I'm fine!" Sherry blurted back, freeing her head from Alyssa's grasp.

"Count me in too," Alyssa chimed in.

"Alive and breathing," Kevin grunted.

"Never better," Claire pitched in.

"Good to go," Leon added, "now just keep this damn thing moving!"

"You got it, Copper!" Jake shot back with a wink and thumbs up.

Alyssa and Leon got up and once again helped Kevin onto the bench, with him insisting on sitting this time around. The reporter continued her first-aid treatment while Leon approached the others. Claire knelt before Sherry and smiled to her remarking about her vest, saying something about how "my God has protected you and it will always be with you," before pulling the child closer for a hug.

Once again the criminal nodded, satisfied with himself. Saving innocents had not been one of his mission objectives, but it still brought some pride to him knowing not everybody in Raccoon had perished, making Umbrella's "victory" incomplete. He might not have been a hero, but nobody deserved to die in such a horrific way and for that, he could feel some pride in helping others knowing they would be escaping such a way to go.

It had also made him feel something he had not felt in quite a while…Human.

There was also the issue of Birkin. Jake had seemingly eliminated his adversary and was now on his way to becoming ten million dollars richer.

With the former scientist taken care of, there was still the issue of how he would obtain his payment. This "mysterious benefactor" of his had a thing for riddles and mind games and how he would get the reward was still a challenge unto itself.

Instinct told him that this would not be some simple matter of him meeting with the fellow in a dark alley and being handed a briefcase. No, he would probably have to go through some other kind of game to find his money and maybe have to put up with a few of the benefactor's other lackeys, if he even had any. Whatever it

was, it was another matter of being on full alert.

Only time would tell as the train sped down the dark tunnel, mere inches away from daylight.

Author's Note: Did you seriously think I was going to just end things like that? I don't think so! I am nowhere near finished with this fic, meaning you haven't seen the last of Jake Cavanaugh. There is still much ground to be covered and I will soldier forth with the upcoming chapters. Also to Escape the Shadows, I have finally heard that new Lamb of God single "Redneck," and you are right, it's totally fucking BADASS! Read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME!


	40. Chapter 35: Game Over

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Chapter 35: Game Over

The six survivors sat peacefully in the trolley escaping with nothing but the weapons they carried and the clothing on their backs, then again they still had their lives, which was all that mattered right now.

Jake remained in the driver's compartment to operate the trolley, alone with his thoughts while everybody else sat in the back chatting quietly among themselves. Kevin had seemed to recover slightly from his injuries and in a lucid state of mind chatting with Leon and Alyssa, regaining some of the pep he noticed from a few nights back. Claire sat across from them joining in on the conversation, Sherry now lying with her head rested in the young woman's lap and on the verge of being claimed by sleep.

They truly looked happy together just the five of them as the criminal plotted his next move, still plotting how he would distance himself from the others.

"Maybe I'll just throw myself out one of the windows once we're out of the tunnel," he thought to himself scratching his stubbly chin, "At least then my disappearance could look somewhat accidental then."

The train sped through the pitch black tunnels with no lighting in sight, raising questions within as to if there were more creatures waiting in the darkness ready to strike if they were forced to exit the trolley. Would there be more monsters waiting for them in the daylight having reached the outside world?

From out of nowhere, the train suddenly jerked violently, interrupting the criminal from his reverie and the five others from their conversation. Another loud boom was heard and the whole trolley shook again.

"What's going on?" Kevin shouted, gripping the bench as tightly as he could.

"Oh great, just when we're so close to making it out of this zombie-infested shithole!" Alyssa followed.

A claxon suddenly began blaring and emergency lights went off inside the trolley, painting the interior a sickly red color.

"What was that?" Leon called out, instinctively raising his customized shotgun.

Suddenly the violent rocking stopped and the train began slowing down.

"What?" Jake blurted out checking over the controls. The train was gradually slowing beyond his control and the loud screeching of the slowing wheels reverberated throughout the dark tunnels. Rising to his feet, the criminal began typing away at the controls in front of him, pushing numerous buttons and flipping rows of switches before he finally resorted to pounding on the consoles, thrashing away the same way he would in a fistfight.

"What the fuck is wrong with this blasted thing?" the criminal shouted aloud angrily driving his fist into a nearby monitor.

"Jake, what the fuck are you doing up there? Get this goddamned thing moving!" Alyssa hollered from the back.

"What gives?" Kevin followed, "In case you haven't noticed, we're about to be barbecued alive! Now is not the time to be slowing down!"

"Yeah, what's up? Why are we suddenly slowing down?" Leon called out walking towards the main cabin, showing up just in time for Jake to nearly rip one of the levers from its slot.

"It's not my doing. Either we're running out of fuel or it's some defense mechanism," the criminal replied, "Whatever's going on, it looks like someone doesn't want us to leave."

As if to answer the criminal's theory, a computerized female voice called out from all directions.

"Warning! Biohazardous outbreak imminent! This train will detonate! Repeat, this train will detonate!"

"Well guess the bitch just spelled it out for us," Jake grunted next to the cop.

"What's wrong with this thing?" Claire called out, holding Sherry protectively close as the girl held her tight and buried her face into the woman's abdomen.

Leon ignored her question and run up to one of the doors jostling with them trying to force them open. "I don't know, the door won't open!" he shot back pounding away with his fists.

"No use in sitting around bitching, gotta find a way out of this tin can!" Kevin shouted trying to rise back to his feet, but was held down by Alyssa.

"What the hell's wrong now? None of us are infected," Alyssa shouted angrily as if someone were listening in on the conversation. "We injected ourselves with that antidote…unless…"

The reporter turned her attention uneasily towards the injured officer and the others followed suit.

"What?" Kevin shouted in near panic as everybody laid eyes on him, but then caught the gist as he looked down to his heavily bandaged torso.

"That thing bit you back there," Alyssa spoke backing away, "Do you think it infected you?"

Leon and Claire got involved now and Sherry hid behind the young woman peeking her head out, staring wide-eyed at the older officer.

"Do you feel alright?" Leon cut in anxiously. The rookie kept his hand over his sidearm, ready to pull it out and end his friend's suffering if the man were infected.

"I'm in a little pain right now, but I'll manage," Kevin spoke defensively taking note of his friend's action.

"Do you feel hungry or anything? You're not burning or itchy are you?" Claire now asked, remembering her meeting with the dying R.P.D. officer Marvin Branagh, who complained of a burning sensation traveling throughout his body and itching himself until he nearly ripped the flesh from his bones, and then she found him in that side office before he fully transformed into one of the living dead.

"Well, I sure could use a juicy T-bone steak right now, but rest assured the only things I'm craving right now are ordinary living people foods and nothing else," Kevin said shaking his head, "As for the itching and burning, of course you're going to feel it when you've taken some serious cuts to your body, but it's nothing that'll be rotting my brains and trying to gnaw your arm off within the next few hours."

"Remember, we did inject that blue serum into our systems before that thing bit him," Jake called out from the front walking towards the others, "If it really is an antidote, then it should prevent him from contracting the T or G-Virus ever again."

"It should be, look his wounds look like they're healing faster than normal too. It truly must be some kind of miracle cure," Alyssa said, moving the tattered remnants of Kevin's shirt aside and pulling on his bandages trying to examine the wounds.

Jake walked up behind Leon and Claire, "Then he should be safe. If we hadn't used it, then he probably would have been infected and turned already."

"He's right, but if Kevin's not the problem, then something else is," Leon spoke looking to the back of their cable car at the door leading to the second car, "Something from the lab must have snuck aboard and activated the alarm. We won't be able to move on until we find out what it is and take care of it. If it's not in here, then it's got to be back there somewhere."

Jake and the others now focused their attention on the back door and looked deeply towards each other.

"He's right, whatever it is we have to take it down," Jake spoke, readying his MP5, "I doubt it will get the train moving again, but we should be far enough to escape on foot if need be."

Leon and Claire nodded to one another, the rookie checking over his shotgun and then pulling out the Desert Eagle and the woman lifting the rocket launcher, displaying a surprising amount of strength for her slender frame.

"Alyssa, you'd better stay with Kevin and keep him company," Leon spoke to the reporter, "Make sure nothing comes through here that doesn't look human." For once the reporter did not complain, especially being in better condition than the rookie officer. Looking to take some extra weight off of her, Claire gave the reporter her grenade launcher.

Remembering her little companion, Claire then turned to Sherry and knelt down to meet the girl eye to eye. "Sherry listen to me, I want you to stay here with Kevin and Alyssa. Please mind them, I promise we'll be back soon."

Sherry looked uneasily into the young woman's eyes before speaking briefly. "Good luck," and with her words, wrapped her arms tightly around Claire's shoulders.

With his other three companions accounted for, Jake looked to Leon and Claire, ready for what they all hoped was a final battle with Umbrella's machinations.

"Ready?"

The rookie and the lady looked to each other and nodded silently.

"Let's do this," Leon said cocking the Desert Eagle.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As soon as the three survivors entered the second car, they found themselves discharging their weapons.

A monstrous blob with a gaping razor-lined hole for a mouth stood before them, slithering wetly forward, assisted by the numerous tentacles gripping the steel pipes above and pulling it towards the trio. A massive red eye immediately gave away the creature's identity.

"So you've come back for more," Jake whispered to the Tyrant, "Maybe you're smart enough to realize there was a price on your head after all. Well I'm still going to collect it and I'll kill you a million times over again if I have to."

The shapeless blob let out a guttural roar and shot one of its many tentacles out, shooting closely enough to ruffle the uppermost hairs on the criminal's head. Quickly sinking to a knee, Jake began firing his submachine gun at every inch of the blob he could, hoping he could dish out at least a bit of damage against the virus-addled mutant.

Exhausting yet another clip in his quest to bring down the monstrosity, the criminal quickly retreated backwards and looked over to Leon and Claire, the cop already firing his customized magnum into the beast while the woman fired away with her Browning HP, the gun doing a pitiful amount of damage against the ever-growing blob.

Jake then looked down to her rocket launcher and understood that she was probably trying to soften the beast up long enough to buy some time before she could lug the piece of heavy artillery onto her shoulder and fire her remaining round into the creature. It was a crucial shot and the beast would need to be distracted or else it wouldn't be pulled off.

"Leon, help me distract this freak for her," the criminal called over to Leon and then turned to Claire, "Claire, get ready! Try to aim for its mouth if you can!"

"Right!" the woman shouted holstering her Browning and reaching for the rocket launcher. Leon only nodded back and continued firing at the blob, managing to punch several holes through its tentacles with well-placed shots.

Jake took aim at the creature's eye and fired half a clip into the mutated organ, eliciting another pained animalistic growl and was forced to duck underneath another barrage of tentacles fired in his direction. He was now caught in a game of cat and mouse as the prehensile tentacles stalked him from all directions, forcing him to duck, dodge, weave, sidestep, jump and roll underneath the numerous attacks launched in his direction, sapping most of his energy as the attacks barely caught him and tore several chunks from his newly-acquired trench coat.

"Damn, I can't even keep a nice coat anymore," Jake grumbled to himself looking down at his now tattered sleeves and coattails. Rolling out of the way of another attempted tentacle strike, the criminal raised his MP5 and fired a volley into the tentacle, spraying more infected blood onto the steel floor.

Leon fell to the ground as he leapt to avoid a tentacle that had tried to wrap around his leg. The customized Desert Eagle fell from his grasp as he hit the floor and more tentacles were still coming his way. Out of desperation, the rookie reached for his shotgun and fired madly at the tentacles launching towards him, managing to temporarily hold them off as he scooped up the magnum. The crackling of an MP5 rang out and he looked over to see Jake covering him, blasting any tentacles that came within five feet of the officer.

"You might not be on our side, but thank you," Leon thought as he inched backwards towards the wall.

Claire watched hurriedly as both men fought to hold the beast off long enough so she could get her shot in. It was a chaotic battle raging around with her seemingly stuck in the middle untouched. The beast's gaping mouth flared before her, making her nearly want to lose her lunch as she stared into the crimson abyss, not even wanting to think of what the beast had previously feasted on.

The Stinger missile launcher was a heavy weapon capable of much destruction, but to the slender young woman it wasn't much of a burden as she had lifted heavier things before.

Claire had to be tough growing up. The young woman had lost her parents at an early age and was sent to live in an orphanage along with her older brother Chris, where the two of them were bullied constantly and learning to defend one's self was mandatory in order to survive. Once he had come of legal age, Chris left for the U.S. Air Force and she was left all alone.

As she grew older, her attractive looks blossomed and she was soon the target of many young men making unwanted advances. In addition to self-defense classes at the local Y.W.C.A., she also took up kickboxing and weight training and even took up gun safety classes, inheriting the superior aim displayed by her brother Chris, one which ran throughout the Redfield bloodline.

All weapons she had used throughout the adventure had become like extensions of herself and she wielded every weapon she held with the greatest accuracy and deadliness. This rocket launcher was no different and if the beast could be held in place long enough, she would destroy it, much like she had done the relentless stalker called "Mr. X."

But how could the beast be held in place long enough? It continued to slither towards them pulling itself forward with its tentacles wrapped around the pipes above, threatening to bring the whole roof down upon them.

"Feel free to shoot at any minute you know?" Jake impatiently shouted to the woman opening fire with his MP5, peppering it to keep its tentacles at bay.

The constant rattle of gunfire around her made it had to concentrate, but the woman tried her best to shut the sound out, steadying her aim with the massive rocket launcher and focusing on the beast's opened mouth. "Come on, just a little closer…" she thought to herself feeling her itchy finger resting on the launcher's trigger, ready to end the beast's life at any second.

Before Claire could get her shot, a new tentacle sprouted from the mangled gelatinous mass and struck her in the stomach, completely knocking the wind from her and the rocket launcher from her grasp.

"Claire!" Leon shouted and continued pelting the blob with his powerful magnum rounds, hoping against hope it was weakening.

The very tentacle that had knocked the young woman backwards now wrapped around her waist and began to slowly drag its intended victim towards its waiting mouth, its teeth seemingly chomping faster as the woman was drawn nearer.

Claire had been severely weakened by the blow to her stomach and could barely put up any resistance as the tentacle wrapped around her lithe form and drew her closer. By the time it she was within five feet of the beast, only then did she come through and tried to grip the floor beneath her.

"Help me!" the young woman cried as she tried to find a foothold in the solid surface, but found nothing and was pulled back faster as she was being dragged through the slippery substance secreted by the mutated blob as it slithered towards them.

Seeing the woman's predicament, Jake let loose on the mutated Birkin with no regards for ammo conservation as she screamed desperately for help. Peppering more rounds into the Tyrant's bubbling hide, the submachine gun clicked dry at the most inopportune of times.

"Son of a…" the criminal grunted under his breath as the woman was pulled closer to the creature's opened mouth, like a piece of trash moving along the conveyor belt towards a waiting trash compactor programmed to mince it into the tiniest scraps. Fishing around his side pack and pockets for any extra clips, he came up empty.

"At the best fucking time too," Jake growled at his misfortune and tossed the empty MP5 into the Tyrant's opened mouth, watching as it ground the submachine gun into tiny bits within a matter of seconds. He knew it was worthless for damaging the creature, but still used it hoping to buy some time while he reached for his next weapon.

Drawing out his S&W, the very gun that had saved him countless times in Raccoon City, Jake fired upon the tentacle that held Claire in an iron grip. Leon stood nearby loading what appeared to be his last clip into the Desert Eagle. Nodding to the criminal, the rookie officer joined him in striking the tentacle, firing a critical shot that had managed to sever the limb from the rest of its mutated body, thus freeing the young woman from her captivity and the doom that would have followed.

With their companion now freed, Leon's Desert Eagle had run dry and he withdrew his customized Remington, waiting as Claire hastily crawled towards him on hands and knees.

"Come on, just a little closer! You're almost here!" Leon shouted to the woman as she kept her head low, both to avoid the gun smoke in the air above blurring her vision and to keep beneath any more possible attacks.

"Leon!" Claire cried blindly thrusting her hand into the smoky air as she hoped to grab onto the rookie officer, but felt nothing and coughed as the fumes threatened to overwhelm her, "Please help me!"

Using his shotgun to feel through the air, the barrel brushed against the woman's arm and he quickly reached down to pull her up, yanking her so hard he fell backwards with her on top of him.

When both of their respective sights returned, Leon and Claire both found themselves in an awkward position, lying in each others arms with the young woman on top.

"Um thanks…" the young woman giggled childishly as she stared into the rookie cop's blue eyes.

"No problem…heh heh…" Leon chuckled blushing in embarrassment.

"Get a room you two, I'm about to kill this thing!" Jake shouted to them noticing their current position.

Lying halfway across from them was the Stinger missile launcher and he set his sights on it seeing it as the opportunity to complete his mission.

Taking a deep breath, Jake dashed towards the rocket launcher pumping his arms and lifting his legs rapidly, almost feeling as if lead weights had been placed in his shoes trying to hold him back from accomplishing the task at hand. Birkin also seemed to take notice of the criminal's plan and launched more tentacles directed at his torso.

Narrowing his eyes, the criminal launched himself towards the ground performing a picture perfect baseball slide underneath a tentacle that would have likely shattered his kneecap had it connected, the lubrication of the smooth steel surface allowing him to slide underneath and directly towards the rocket launcher.

Noticing that his prize was now mere inches from his fingers, Jake launched himself forward and grabbed the heavy artillery, smirking as his hands gripped around the cool metallic surface. With a mighty grunt, the criminal rose back to his feet and lifted the massive weapon onto his broad shoulder.

"End of the road, Birkin!" Jake shouted to his mutated nemesis as he trained the laser crosshairs onto the beast's opened mouth and gripped the trigger.

"Game over!"

With a resounding click, the remaining missile shot from the barrel and whistled towards the blob that had once been William Birkin.

As he had anticipated, the rocket connected with Birkin's opened mouth and a massive explosion followed that sent all three survivors flying backwards against the wall and showering the surrounding area with large chunks of mutated skin.

Leon and Claire still lay together with their arms wrapped around each other while Jake was next to them, his head nearly colliding with Claire's as he was thrown backward.

"Did you kill it?" Leon asked, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he lowered his hand to look at what remained of their adversary.

Jake blinked his eyes a few times before raising his head and laying eyes upon his target.

The massive blob that had once been William Birkin now lay in a charred, smoldering heap of bubbling blackness, gradually dissolving into a pungent purple puddle as masses of purplish-blue skin dripped from a deformed shell barely holding itself together.

At last, William Birkin was dead.

"I sure as hell hope I did," Jake muttered to himself as he rose back to his feet and then helped the others back to their feet.

"Good, maybe we can get this thing going again," Leon said reaching down for Claire's Browning HP and handing it back to her. "Maybe we'll be able to find some way to detach this train car and get this freak as far away from us as possible."

The loud shriek of metal scraping against metal rang out and the trio suddenly felt the train floor vibrating beneath them.

"That's odd…" Leon spoke rubbing the back of his neck.

"No shit…" Jake shot back, making his way towards the exit anxious to get up front and get this car detached so he could get some shut eye.

Approaching the door and gripping the knob, the criminal was nearly knocked backwards again as the smaller form of Alyssa Ashcroft nearly charged headlong into his chest.

"Whoa, what's going on now?" Jake asked grabbing the reporter by her shoulders and looking deep into her eyes.

"It's this facility's fucked up security system!" she shouted back, "While the three of you were starting World War 3 in there, the train suddenly started back up and some warning message called out saying that each train compartment will detonate sequentially!"

"Then why the hell haven't you gotten Kevin and Sherry and gotten out of here yet?" Jake asked holstering his S&W.

"We still can't get off!" she shouted over a siren that now blared followed by a robotic warning message.

"Warning! The self-destruct sequence has been activated! Each train compartment will detonate sequentially!"

The trio looked to Alyssa and then looked to each other before making the next move.

"What?" Leon gasped quietly next to Claire, who returned his wide-eyed expression.

"Crap! Come on, we've gotta find some way off here!" Jake shouted pushing past the reporter and reentering the train car where Kevin still rested on the bench with Sherry next to him.

"Jake!" Sherry cried hurriedly, "What's going on? Why aren't we getting off here yet?"

"No time to explain," Jake spoke back giving the child a firm pat on the shoulder.

"Can't we just stop the train?" Claire asked motioning towards the door leading to the main cabin.

"We can't, the door is locked!" Alyssa shouted back, running up to the main cabin's door again and jostling the handle to prove her point.

"Should I try to blow it open?" Leon asked pumping his shotgun.

"No, you might damage the controls," Jake said placing his hand over the rookie's chest to hold him back.

"Hey what the hell is that noise?" Kevin called out from the bench as he heard a new noise from behind.

Looking back, the others now heard a weird squishing sound and soon leapt back as they realized what was making it.

From the rear ventilation ducts, purplish-black blood oozed through the tiny cracks followed closely by strands of bluish-gray and reddish-pink, the skin tones of a familiar and hostile being.

"I thought you said you killed it!" Leon shouted towards Jake in disbelief.

"I did," he sternly replied, "It must be the G-Virus running through its system. Whatever this virus does, if the host dies then it must have the ability to regenerate parts of the body still riddled with the virus and activate them, giving them a mind of their own."

"Oh this is just turning out peachy," Alyssa groaned rolling her eyes.

"Oh my goodness, Claire," Sherry called out throwing her arms around the young woman's waist again.

"Sherry, get back!" Leon ordered training his shotgun on the approaching blob filtering through.

The girl let out a terrified scream and flew back as the monster now emerged inside the car, its massive eye and mouth of jagged fangs soon forming.

"That's what I call ugly!" Leon said nodding to the others.

"Get back!" Alyssa ordered grabbing Kevin and dragging him towards the back of the car followed by the others as the monster began gaining on them.

"Jake, where are you?" Leon called out, followed by the sound of glass shattering.

The five survivors turned to find one of the windows shattered and the tails of Jake's trench coat moving up to the roof.

"What the hell is he doing now?" Alyssa barked impatiently, inviting more worried stares from the others.

Jake had just smashed through one of the windows and now found himself on the roof of the train car he had previously occupied, the wind blowing all around him and the surface vibrating beneath him, making it hard to keep a strong foothold. Remembering his knife, the criminal stabbed it down into the surface.

Behind him, William Birkin's virus-addled body had once again reanimated and was now in the process of consuming the car that held the others.

"You don't give up, do you?"

Meanwhile, down in the car Sherry Birkin had formulated a plan of her own based on something she had once seen on television and hoped it could apply in the real world as well.

Noticing a ventilation cover beneath her, the young girl took notice that it could probably fit her form and was once again willing to give it a try. Hiding in ventilation systems and moving through opened ducts had been a crucial factor in her survival over the past few days and now hoped that it could work this time for the sake of her friends' survival.

Ripping away at the brittle cover, Sherry smiled as it came undone and realized much to her delight that it was wide enough for her to fit through.

"Sherry, what are you doing?" Leon called out pressing through the others and running over to her.

"We have to stop the train, right? I can do it!" the girl shouted back as her feet disappeared through the ventilation duct.

"But Sherry…" Leon cried before sighing in defeat, knowing his battle was lost.

The others looked back to the rookie officer, who shrugged his shoulders knowing he had to deliver bad news. "I can't get through to her. She probably has no idea what to do, I just pray she doesn't get us all killed."

"So what do we do now?" Claire asked, "Sherry bailed on us and Jake is doing God knows what. We have to do something."

"Whatever our friends are doing, hopefully it's some master plan to get us out of here," Kevin added looking back to the blob, "Until now I guess all we can do is try to hold it off."

The officer pumped his Franchi SPAS-12 assault shotgun, while Alyssa readied the M-79 grenade launcher given to her by Claire. Leon saw that Claire wasn't left with much in the way of ammo and gave her his MAC 11 submachine gun while he pulled out the customized Remington. Nodding to each other, the four survivors opened fire on the invading mutant.

"Come and get us you freak!"

The main cabin was a small room compared to the rest of the trolley, but the control panel was massive and looked like it could barely fit into such a tiny room, increasing the amount of pressure resting on the young girl's shoulders.

Sherry slowly approached the control panel and studied the vast array of blinking switches and buttons closely hoping to find something that would stop the train, but the constantly flashing lights were blinding and made it hard to read much of anything.

"Hmm, which one is the right switch?" the girl asked aloud waving her hand over the panel ready to push anything, "Maybe this one?"

A face suddenly appeared in one of the front windows hanging upside down; forcing Sherry to fly back screaming thinking that another zombie had made its way onto the trolley. The smashing of glass followed by a figure landing in the cabin forced the girl down to her knees throwing her arms over her head.

"No, please go away!" the girl cried out, thinking her desperate pleas would go unanswered. A strong hand gripped her shoulder and her fear spiraled out of control thinking she would die right here never getting the chance to escape from Raccoon City.

"Sherry relax, it's me!" a familiar gruff voice called out from above.

Slowly uncovering her head, the girl looked up to see Jake standing above her with knife in hand, which he quickly slid back into its sheath.

"Jake!"

"What are you doing in here?" the man demanded helping her back to her feet and gently moving her back towards the entrance.

"You have to stop the train Jake, there's a monster onboard!" the child called out motioning towards the control panel she was about to work before he entered.

Jake looked back to the control panel she was talking about and studied the numerous switches closely. It had been very user friendly when he first started the train up, easy enough for even a chimp to operate the train. If it could be that easy to start the train up, then it shouldn't be too difficult to stop it.

"Alright, where the hell are you?" he said quietly looking for the switch that would bring the train to a halt. It was a critical decision that would determine not only his own fate, but that of five others as well. Moving his gloved hand over the panel an internal magnet seemingly drew him towards a large black and red switch that looked important compared to the others.

"Don't have much choice," Jake said quietly and pulled the switch back as hard as he could. The second his hand drew the lever back, a high-pitched whistle sounded throughout the cavernous tunnel surrounding them and once again the trolley was brought to a grinding halt, threatening to throw the tall man through the windshield in front of him, but bringing his hand down to maintain his grip.

In the car behind them, the four other survivors had fought valiantly to hold the encroaching beast off. Weapons discharged at a manic pace and patches of infected skin and purplish-black blood rained down from all angles as they fired at anything that moved.

Halfway through the scuffle, Leon had discovered a panel in the floor below and had crawled through it hoping somehow he would be able to find something that could help slow the train down. That had been several minutes before and Claire now deviated from the task at hand hoping for a sign from the rookie cop.

"Leon! Speak to us!" the woman cried, stopping to fire at a tentacle coming down after her.

"I can't hold on much longer!" the rookie shouted, who was now hanging onto bars sticking out from the bottom of the trolley car, hugging them as tightly as he could. The man's back was literally inches from the track below and any lapse would have caused him to be dragged beneath and eventually mangled by the train's wheels.

Alyssa had now exhausted the remaining rounds for the grenade launcher and tossed the weapon aside, once again down to using her magnum revolver against the spreading mass.

"If any of them are trying to work a miracle they sure as hell had better be on it about now!" Kevin shouted, making reference to their three companions who had disappeared on them.

Suddenly, the train grinded to a halt and seconds later, the side door was pried open by a jagged iron pipe.

"I'd say it's time to be leaving now!" Jake called out poking his head into the train car with a confident smirk.

Without a second thought, Claire was first to emerge from the train car and quickly ran over to Sherry wrapping the little girl in a tight embrace. Alyssa was out next supporting the injured Kevin on her shoulder, the latter of whom had to be helped out by the career criminal.

"Are you all okay?" Jake asked and they replied with quick nods.

"Wait, where's Leon?" Claire suddenly blurted out moving her head back and forth about the tunnel, "Leon! Leon! Leon speak to us!" she cried into the darkness.

The thud of a body hitting the ground sounded from beneath the train and the five survivors looked to see their remaining companion crawling out from underneath on his stomach.

"Finally," the rookie officer grunted rising back to his feet and dusting off his soiled uniform.

"Leon!" Sherry and Claire shouted in unison and ran over to the officer.

"You're all okay," Leon replied with a satisfied grin wrapping his arms around both women pulling them into a group hug and then walked over to pat his buddy Kevin on the shoulder, who smiled through the pain happy to see his friend still alive.

The group's victory celebration was cut short as the Birkin monster had now fully consumed the train they once inhabited, its sickly mass oozing out through the windows and slowly creeping towards them.

"We've gotta get out of here, move it! Go!" Jake shouted towards the others motioning ahead of them.

Leon and Claire ran over to Kevin and wrapped each of his arms around their shoulders, the woman dropping her MAC 11 but in too much of a hurry to pick it up. As quickly as they could, the duo started dragging the wounded officer forward, Kevin by now having regained some of his strength and able to assist their efforts under his own volition.

"Get going! Move your ass!" Jake shouted to Alyssa, who simply nodded and began chasing after the other three.

Jake then returned his attention to Sherry, who had been tired out from all the running they had just gone through and was now collapsing to her knees.

"Help me!" the child pleaded weakly unable to rise back to her feet.

Scooping the small girl into his arms, Jake broke into an adrenaline-induced sprint that quickly took him to the heels of the four other survivors in front of them. He could have easily surpassed them, but knowing that Kevin and Leon had both been injured he elected to let them be first out of the tunnel.

Up until a few seconds ago the six survivors had been running blindly in pitch darkness, but now the darkness was gradually fading from around a corner and everybody's hopes were suddenly lifted.

"Could that be daylight?" Alyssa asked aloud, "Quickly! We must be nearing the end of the tunnel!"

"Follow that light!" Kevin shouted trying to quicken his own pace as he jogged in between Leon and Claire.

"Everybody, double time it now!" Jake ordered from the back of the group still holding Sherry closely. Even though it couldn't be seen in the darkness, the criminal could tell that the girl had probably wanted to be put down and run out of the tunnel under her own free will, but she was still too small to run from the flames that would eventually chase them and needed the extra assistance.

"Don't worry, we're almost out of here," the criminal spoke to the little girl, who only replied with a tiny sigh.

Rounding the corner, the six survivors finally laid eyes upon a faint patch of sky blue light at the end of the tunnel, something each one of them had been dying to see for the past few days, a literal end to their suffering.

"Yes, we're almost home free, come on!" Leon shouted happily, unable to contain his glee like a kid in a candy store.

"Thank you…" Jake breathed quietly seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, an end to the darkness he had endured for the past four days within the hellacious Raccoon City.

The huffing and puffing of his companions filled the air as they ran with all the speed they could muster, but there were no signs of giving up among any of them. Jake too felt the physical drain, including bearing the burden of a child in his arms, but didn't show it as his entire focus became escaping from the nightmare.

"Come on Jake, you're so close," the voice called out in his head, "Birkin is as good as dead and you've completed your mission. All you need to do now is live."

The once faint patch of daylight shining into the cavernous tunnel now grew larger and larger with every step the six survivors took in its direction and they could each feel the fresh clean air brushing against their battered bodies and the sweet smell of pure cleanliness drifting into their nostrils, a welcome change from the decay and smoke that had consumed the literal graveyard Raccoon City had become.

To Jake Cavanaugh, it was a small miracle he could even remember what fresh air smelled like.

A low rumble sounded from behind, indicating they must have been within the earliest stages of the facility's self-destruct mechanism. It would only be a matter of time before the wall of fire chased after them.

Jake could only look over his shoulder as the rumble began to grow followed by a trembling beneath their feet that began to grow with every passing second. It started out as a soft vibration as the ground stuttered beneath them followed by clouds of dust and tiny pebbles raining down from above. The tiny pebbles soon turned into giant rocks and spikes raining down all around the survivors threatening to knock them out at any second, including one that fell and bonked the criminal on the head, re-aggravating the injury sustained from his fall a few nights back. It would not deter the criminal and he continued to soldier forth towards the waiting daylight.

The once pitch black darkness that filled the tunnel had now begun to fade as a reddish-orange light illuminated the pipes and support beams surrounding them in the passageway. Clouds of reddish-orange flames tinged with deepest black and bright yellow hues soon appeared from around the corner they had just came from, followed by the seemingly endless wall of flames and falling debris.

"Fucking move!" Jake hollered over the roar of flames and crashes surrounding them. The ground was now quaking mercilessly beneath them and seemingly worked against them as it threatened to throw them off course. Steadying himself long enough, the criminal managed to maintain his vertical base as he charged forward, managing to keep his hold on Sherry as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as tightly as she could.

The chain reaction of explosions following the group was massive and none of them doubted they would be suffering hearing damage in the end; it was like they were running through a World War 3 battlefield with bombs dropping all around them. It was over one of the major explosions the criminal had managed to hear Alyssa call out.

"It's right in front of us!"

Jake barely registered the woman's words and had no clue what she was talking about, hoping she meant the end of the tunnel. The only other thing to be heard was the endless amount of explosions that now literally nipped at his heels and the flames above that forced him to keep his head down, leaving him only able to stare at the ground below. He dare not turn his back as he surely would have been blinded by the bright flames threatening to swallow him up.

The criminal continued to pump his legs as hard as he could, feeling the unbearable heat prickling against his exposed skin and eating through his clothing like the fires of Hell were coming to claim him.

"Not today, Satan," Jake thought to himself as he fought to keep in front of the approaching flames, close enough to the point where embers were embedding into his trench coat.

"There!" he heard Leon shout followed by some heavy thuds in front of him.

The rookie's voice barely registered as one gigantic rumble now sounded above the numerous explosions and a massive wave of flame shot out from the tunnel behind the career criminal, creating one last massive quake that sent the man flying through the air and into the daylight of the outer world.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ada Wong sat quietly in the trolley staring out the nearest window at the endless amount of forest surrounding the train she rode on, in deep thought about what had just transpired.

She had been sent to Raccoon City to obtain the remaining sample of the G-Virus, only to fail miserably in her quest. Just hours ago she had been mere seconds away from death until "he" came along and injected her with a mysterious chemical that had saved her life.

Once a battered, broken mess of fractured bones and ruptured internal organs, the delicate-looking woman was now back to normal, good as new her colleagues said.

Finally turning her gaze away from the window, Ada looked over to the eleven men in the car with her, all commandos sent in by the company.

They were all men of varied ethnic backgrounds each bringing their own strengths to the table, making them twice as deadly in combat. Right now though, all of them were stretched out in relaxed poses with their gas masks removed, relieved to be alive after the madness they had just endured in the research outpost. Most of them sat quietly chatting among themselves while a few others were either passed out or just sat quietly trying to comprehend the ungodly aberrations they had just gone through.

Among the latter was Commander Karkian himself, who sat up front near the main cabin. The grizzled veteran sat perfect still and seemingly staring at nothing almost as if he were locked in a deep trance.

Ada had heard from several of his subordinates that the mysterious Jake fellow she had been traveling with murdered two of his men and how he wanted blood, but The Man wouldn't allow it. It was also through them that she learned this Jake person was really Jake Cavanaugh, a.k.a. The Red Dragon, a wanted fugitive who had been picked to do some dirty work for her boss. She smiled to herself knowing that she was right, knowing that something seriously wasn't right about that "Jake Smith" character.

The spy observed quietly as the angry commander reached into one of the compartments in his combat vest and pulled out the tattered remnants of the black t-shirt Jake had worn its gorgeous red dragon design untouched by the ravages sustained by the rest of the shirt. Commander Karkian stared viciously at the red dragon and muttered something quietly to himself before slipping it back into his compartment.

As if the hardened soldier could sense the woman staring at him, Karkian slowly turned and met her glance, his icy blue eyes staring directly into her dark brown, almost black eyes. Despite only being in his late forties, the commander's face was lined with numerous wrinkles, most caused by the scars decorating his face, his most prominent being the one which ran down his right eye, given to him during a close quarters battle with a Viet Cong officer while serving in the steamy jungles of Vietnam. Like many soldiers, the man wore his black hair cut very closely to his head, barely disguising more scars covering his skull. He was a man who had seen his fair share of battles and his face truly showed it.

The commander furrowed his brow at the woman as if to say "What are you looking at?" Being a master manipulator, Ada was not at all intimidated by the grizzled commander and tauntingly batted her eyelashes at the veteran soldier, an offense that would have earned a lesser soldier a slit throat.

Then again, right now the woman probably wouldn't die so easily. The chemical injected into her system almost made her feel superhuman. Within the span of minutes she had progressed from a near death state back to her normal self and leapt up from the stretcher she was being carried on. As soon as The Man had learned of this, he immediately gave her new orders.

William Birkin, now mutated by his own G-Virus, was still alive and lurking somewhere in the facility, as was Jake Cavanaugh, the man who had been selected to take down the renegade researcher. There was also the troublesome presence of the Tyrant codenamed "Mr. X," an unwanted nuisance who posed a major threat to the criminal's mission and had to be eliminated immediately.

Given an HK-P grenade launcher equipped with deadly liquid nitrogen rounds, and a heat-seeking Stinger missile launcher, Ada was given orders to distribute the first weapon to the career criminal from the shadows if she happened across him, and second to eliminate the Mr. X Tyrant with the more powerful rocket launcher.

The spy eventually happened across Jake Cavanaugh battling Birkin, but he wasn't alone, he was fighting alongside Leon Kennedy and the two other individuals she had first encountered on the bridge before her "death." With very little time left on her hands, she dropped the grenade launcher into the battle below before taking off for her next destination.

After further searching, Ada eventually found the Mr. X Tyrant, but now it had been transformed into a ten foot tall beast with gigantic claws. Below the creature fought a woman she had never seen before who was on the losing end of the battle and about to be skewered alive. Smiling as she now had someone to do her dirty work for her; she dropped the rocket launcher to the woman below and disappeared before she could be identified.

Once both her mission objectives had been completed, Ms. Wong returned to the train where Commander Karkian and a few of his remaining men had recently boarded and were on their way out when she joined them.

The Umbrella trolley they boarded was programmed to head for the nearest facility, which in this case happened to be located in Eagle Point. Thanks to the efforts of one of their hackers, the train would now be heading to nearby Springvale, where they would rendezvous with another retrieval unit and then make their way to the facility located at Verdant Mountain.

It would be a fairly long trip to both locations and for now she would just have to sit back and plan out what she would do with her reward money, if she would be receiving any at all just for making it out alive. She would also have to plan out how she would defend herself against the ten other commandos aside from Commander Karkian riding in the train with her.

Ada returned her attention to the men surrounding her, still engaged in their usual activities. These men had spent months in basic training, most likely in one of Umbrella's secluded training facilities like Rockfort Island, their one in the German countryside or in the Antarctica base, far away from civilization. None of them had probably been around a woman in months and after surviving such a disaster, would probably be itching for some action.

Turning to her left, the spy found a powerfully-built man with short brown hair and a Remington sniper rifle shooting her a dastardly grin. A frown crossed the woman's features, making no attempt to hide her disgust with the man.

McBride was the commando's last name; she had never even bothered to learn his first. The man was a talented marksman who had performed several high-risk operations for the company in the past; he was also a horny pervert who had made several advances towards her and several other female co-workers in the past.

Across from the sniper was a slightly smaller man with short shaggy blonde hair and light amber colored eyes shooting his own lustful grin towards the woman. This man was Jesse Claine, a field scout and trained backup pilot notorious for his womanizing ways.

Both men ogled the woman closely and then looked toward one another, furrowing their brows like two wild animals about to compete for their right to mate with the female. It was a testosterone-driven competition that was bound to get messy and create more pandemonium within the enclosed quarters, something the woman had no time for and neither did the other commandos. She would have to act as an unlikely peacemaker in this situation.

Reaching down on the seat next to her, Ada raised her Browning HP and pointed it quietly at both men, shooting them an evil glare to state that she meant business. After a few tense moments, both men broke their gaze from her and then looked to each other before finally backing down.

"At least they display some signs of intelligence," the woman smirked to herself sitting back and kicking off her shoes. Relief washed over the woman as she was finally able to release her toes from the cramped heels for the first time in seemingly forever and looked down to her reddened toes. It was when she looked down that she caught another glimpse of the crimson bandage that had been wrapped around her waist, covering the blow inflicted upon her by the mutated William Birkin.

The deep cut still stung a little, but was mostly dulled by the painkillers she had been pumped full of when first discovered. It would leave a nasty scar in the end, but it would also leave a reminder to never again allow her abilities to go to her head. Overconfidence had nearly cost her the ultimate price, but now she could live another day, humbled by her near-death experience. It reminded her that she was not invincible and to be extra careful next time.

The presence of other survivors had also given the woman a reason to remain on her toes.

Jake Cavanaugh surely survived and by now had probably completed his task of eliminating the rogue Umbrella researcher. The man was mysterious and highly unpredictable, a danger in the truest sense. Another confrontation with the man was inevitable, especially if Commander Karkian had any say in the matter.

Leon Kennedy, the idealistic rookie officer she had encountered in the R.P.D. At first he had seemed like your average dutiful and ambitious young police officer who wanted to do what he was assigned to and protect those around him. The man also appeared as if he were becoming attracted to her, a mistake that would have cost him had he been around her longer. That had shown to be only the tip of the iceberg as the man's quick thinking took him farther than she thought.

There was also the younger woman battling Mr. X and the two people with Leon and Jake, and very likely possible other survivors running around what was left of Raccoon City. Other survivors who knew too much would cause a lot of trouble for her company and it would be a serious challenge to track each and every single one of them down and eliminate them without arousing too much suspicion.

A loud static hiss suddenly filled the train car and everybody diverted their attention to Commander Karkian, who tapped the earpiece in his right ear to talk.

"Karkian speaking," he replied and listened to the message from the other end, "The Springvale outbreak has been contained? Very well, we should be arriving in two hours. Keep your men on alert for any more disturbances. Karkian out!"

The commander checked over his M-4 one more time, "Be ready boys, after we drop off our guest we're heading to Springvale," he spoke looking to Ada.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The wall of fire shot out from the tunnel in a concentrated line before reaching the open vastness of the outside world, blooming into one large ball of bright red, orange and yellow followed by a mushroom cloud of the deepest black. It was a strangely beautiful sight when shown against the natural backdrop of the early dawn sky. The spectacle ended almost as quickly as it had begun when a large portion of the mountain above began to collapse, creating a massive landslide that sealed off the tunnel and seemingly isolated the horrors within from the outside world.

From the angle he watched, it almost looked as if nobody made it out alive, which would have been the assumption by any ordinary person. No ordinary person possessed his sharp intuition either.

"He's alive, I know it," The Man muttered to himself watching the blast from the safety of his escape chopper. "He's too crafty to be done in by one pitiful explosion, it would take an entire world ablaze to bring him down," he thought with a confident smile.

"Are you absolutely sure one lowly lout from the streets would possess such a capability?" a high-pitched voice squawked from behind him.

Turning around The Man saw three people sitting on the bench across from him, the first being one of his top hackers named Hewlett, the second being Captain Almasy, and the last a short, toady man in a dark green suit contrasting bright red hair and a bushy mustache that almost made him look comical.

"Mr. Burbank I have assured you countless times that this is no lowly hoodlum from the streets we are employing. Had he been, he would be dead already," The Man explained, taking a seat near the cargo door. "This man is a trained Grade A killer you are dealing with who could jump you from behind and kill you in ten different ways without breaking a sweat. He is not one to be taken lightly. Trust me, you saw him in action yourself back in the facility's control room."

"But still, the man is a known criminal," the suited man Mr. Burbank protested, "If he were to be caught while performing your little assignment it could bring much unwanted publicity and cause irreparable damage. We would be ruined!"

Before the executive could speak further, a black gloved hand was clamped around his flabby throat like the jaws of death and he was silenced immediately.

"I am very much aware of your concerns Mr. Burbank, but how many times must I reassure you that I know what I am doing? This is not the only time I have seen him in action," The Man continued, now raising the executive to his feet. "Other than Raccoon City, I have seen him perform tasks in Vice City, Washington City and a few other places where I can attest his talent…"

With very little effort, The Man dragged Mr. Burbank over to the cargo door and held the short executive by the throat with one hand while using his free hand to open the door. Outside winds flooded the cabin and threatened to pull the occupants out into the open. Captain Almasy and Hewlett clamped down on their seats to hold themselves in, while The Man himself relied upon his superior strength to hang on from the nearby support rail, never moving an inch as he pushed the executive out the door and dangled him by the collar threatening to drop him at any given second.

"Now…" The Man trailed off, feeling the breeze ruffle his hair and garments while he listened to the frightened executive's pathetic whimpering, "…Are you going to continue questioning my intuitions or do I have to send you to an early grave? I know death is your greatest fear Mr. Burbank, please don't force me to send you to your maker so soon."

Mr. Burbank looked back horrified into The Man's fearless eyes as his feet dangled over nothing. Knowing he would have to if he wanted to survive, but hating himself for doing it, he nodded wordlessly.

"Good, I'm glad you could see things my way for once," The Man sneered tossing the executive back towards the bench where he initially sat, nearly taking out the captain and the hacker.

The Man quietly slid the cargo door shut and again turned to face his subordinates, "I wasn't going to kill you anyway Burbank. I know you don't look like it, but you are actually of some importance to the company. You were sent along with me to observe our troops in action and determine the capabilities of the G-Virus when released into the open. You have gathered enough worthy data to still be considered valuable, plus your death would bring me unwanted backlash I have no need for right now.

Besides, the company has been good enough to me so far, no danger of me doing to you what I did to the others."

Lyle Burbank stared uneasily at his fellow advisor never taking his eyes away as he sheepishly rose back into his seat, truly mortified a co-worker would do such a thing, especially after everything the company had done for him. Nevertheless, he was truly happy to be alive and relieved he didn't soil himself during the incident. The executive looked quietly towards Hewlett and Captain Almasy, both of whom had spent most of the trip in silence, and quieted down himself.

The Man sat back quietly until he was again interrupted by the electronic ringing of his cellular phone. Sighing quietly, he raised the phone and pushed the talk button.

"It's me," he spoke and listened to a status report from another subordinate, "The Springvale outbreak has been contained? Excellent, I am headed there as we speak. I have some other business there to attend to anyway, gather your men at the local high school and we will formulate our plan. Talk to you later."

Turning off his cell phone, The Man approached the cockpit area where the pilot and his navigator focused on their latest destination.

"How much time until Springvale?" he asked standing tall over both men.

"ETA in approximately one hour," the pilot replied.

A blur of motion caught The Man's eye and he looked down to the highway beneath them where a solitary figure on a motorcycle raced down the empty stretch of road towards Raccoon City.

"Either the man has a death wish or is unaware of the circumstances which have befallen the city," he thought to himself with a smirk and an idea suddenly popped into his mind.

"Lower the chopper," he ordered.

"What?" both the pilot and navigator replied in unison, staring back in awe.

"You heard me, lower the chopper!" The Man spoke, this time with more force.

"But sir, we have less than an hour and thirty minutes until the government's nuke is scheduled to strike the city. We could be caught in the blast radius!" the pilot shot back, "Plus there's the meeting in Springvale!"

Before the pilot could protest any further, he was met with a Colt .45 to the face.

"You will do as I say or else I will be forced to make an example out of you right in front of your colleagues to show what happens when you commit insubordination!" The Man growled, his tone indicating that he was running out of patience.

Deep inside he was more amused than impatient, enjoying the thrill he got from intimidating others. It was also humorous to him drawing his gun when he knew he could easily kill the man with his bare hands.

"Lower the chopper at once, I have a surprise planned for our guest. If you do as I say now, then we will have plenty of time to avoid the blast."

Both pilots looked silently to each other nodding as they proceeded to lower the chopper.

The Man did indeed have a surprise planned for his "guest," the person in question being Jake Cavanaugh, one the career criminal would probably like for once.

"Soon Cavanaugh, soon…" he muttered to himself.

Far too long he had hidden in the shadows, observing with great interest as the criminal he had personally selected performed his assigned task with the utmost precision, impressing him greatly. It was also a worthwhile victory he could use to help prove his doubters wrong, those who thought he was insane for choosing a street criminal to perform a high-risk assassination for them.

With the secret Umbrella research outpost going up in flames, it was a sure thing Cavanaugh had completed his mission, the only thing left now was to meet the man in person.

The Man looked back to the briefcase in his possession which held ten million dollars in cold hard cash. He had talked the criminal into literally putting his life on the life for that amount of money and being a man of his word he was prepared to deliver. The criminal had impressed him so much that he even hoped if possible to make Jake Cavanaugh a permanent fixture within his company.

However, he was smart enough to realize that Cavanaugh would be pretty incensed by everything he had been forced to endure and all the mind games he had played with him, and thus could be ready to lash out if he ever met him face to face. The Man then looked down to his gloved hands and clenched them tightly as he thought of the prospective clash between him and the career criminal.

"You might be good Cavanaugh, but you're not as good as you may think," The Man thought to himself approaching the cargo door as the helicopter lowered itself to the ground and he readied to put his plan in motion. It would be his last surprise.

The games would soon end and when the time was right, he would step out of the shadows and reveal himself to Jake Cavanaugh.

"Soon Jake Cavanaugh, soon you will know my name."


	41. Chapter 36: Daylight

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Chapter 36: Daylight

A great warmth washed down from the sky above, tickling Jake's exposed skin and rousing him from his slumber.

The criminal grunted out loud and his hands clasped handfuls of dirty and tiny pebbles. Slowly raising his head, the young man peeled his eyes open, blinking away the dried blood which crusted them shut. A brief pain shot through the man's skull as he raised his head further, but he forced himself to keep his head up and within seconds it was gone. It was finally when the pain subsided that he began to feel the cool autumn breeze, so fresh and pure, caress his sweat-soaked skin and slightly rejuvenate him.

With his strength slowly returning, Jake rose to his knees and dusted his clothing off and with it finally took in his surroundings.

Quietly scanning the area, he found himself lying off to the side of a set of railroad tracks which led into the very tunnel that had blown up behind him. Turning around the criminal found the tunnel had now been blocked by a massive landslide with small swaths of black smoke creeping out through tiny cracks in the rock wall. It silently relieved him to see that the facility had now been destroyed and with it, all of Umbrella's monstrosities gone up in flames, Birkin being among them.

The brightness of the rocks made Jake look upward to the sky where the sun had risen above yonder, the dark blue sky gradually receding into what would become a bright blue tone accompanied by the already forming cuddly-looking white clouds that would dot the daytime sky.

Listening intently for the sound of fellow survivors or more zombies, all he could hear was the faint rustling of tree branches and tall grass. Behind him to the left of the blocked tunnel were rows upon rows of lush green pine trees intertwined with countless species of other trees showing the earliest signs of fall with their leaves already changing into vibrant shades of red, orange and yellow. Beneath the tall trees were thick bushes covered in beautiful flowers and berries that looked safe enough to eat, and beneath the bushes further was grass tall enough for anybody to hide in.

The thought of anything hiding in the grass briefly made Jake reach for his gun, but he halted himself before it could be removed from its holster and he stopped to take in the innate beauty which surrounded him.

Had he ever noticed such beauty in intimate detail before? For once he truly felt the cleansing comfort nature offered and sat back to breathe in the pure natural aromas he had longed for, those untouched by the death and decay of the living dead. There were no sounds of animals basking in nature either, but it was a good thing for once, they would have disturbed his moment of inner peace with their unnecessary racket. For once he felt as if he had discovered a nirvana invisible to the naked eye, one that had been right under his nose all this time, a creative mind's dream come true.

It seemed as if he was all alone now, was he dead and remembering? Had that fire back there swallowed him whole along with the others? Had he really died and gone to Heaven? If that was the case then it would be quite ironic that he of all people be permitted into God's kingdom.

"God would have to have one hell of a sense of humor to let me into his domain if I have really died," Jake thought awkwardly to himself as he stared out into the wide open prairie to the right of the tracks, "Guess now I just have to wait for that angel to come usher me off to wherever I'm going to be then."

He had survived what had possibly been the closest thing to Hell on Earth and he could only ponder if that would be any kind of redemption for his previous sins.

A childish groan snapped the criminal out of his daydream and he suddenly remembered the others. It was only when he looked down that he found little Sherry Birkin lying facedown on the ground with her arms thrown over her head, suddenly remembering that he had thrown himself on top of the adolescent to shield her from the blast he and the others had been running from as the tunnel collapsed around them. As soon as the girl had made her presence known the others began to follow suit.

Sitting up painfully from a patch of tall snake grass beneath some impressive oaks, Officer Kevin Ryman held his burning torso as he struggled to remain upright and was joined shortly by Leon and Claire rising up from both sides having fallen while they helped him from the tunnel, each grabbing him from underneath his arms to keep him upright.

Rising from a muck-filled ditch not far from them, Alyssa Ashcroft grunted as she brushed fresh clumps of mud from her once fancy suit and reached back into a puddle to retrieve her magnum revolver, cursing in disgust as the powerful gun was now rendered useless due to all the fresh mud clogging its parts.

The five people he had escaped from the facility with still survived, a surefire sign he was still alive after all.

All of them were covered from head to toe in filth, and in the adults' case, the blood and gore of the countless zombies and beasts they had liquidated during their time in the outbreak-riddled city. The stench of death that had permeated the air of Raccoon City soon returned once the other survivors had made their presence felt, the very smell of decay Jake had tried to evade now tainting the fresh air he had so greatly longed for and at least had the chance to temporarily enjoy before it returned to assault his senses.

In addition to all the gore, sweat poured off of each survivor in sheets of perspiration. Eyes blurred from the humidity of the fires and labs they had just passed through, and the fatigue of enduring several nights with little or no sleep. Each of them fought off headaches and nausea, the thoughts of their trials still fresh in their minds and gradually weakening their constitutions. The weapons they wielded had become frozen lumps within their cramped, trembling hands and their fingers were throbbing from countless trigger pulls, as well as aching wrists from the recoil of powerful weapons they had been forced to master within such a brief period. Temporary hearing damage had probably also occurred from the vast amounts of close quarters gunfire and explosions resulting from both their own firearms and the environment around them. Overall, they had been sent through the ringer and could be a physical testament to what they had been forced to endure over the past couple days.

Physical problems though would soon become the very least of their worries as the horrors of Raccoon would lead them to a new enemy, the unseen visceral entity of insanity.

Monsters that were not supposed to exist came to life and attacked each of them over the past few days; countless people close to Jake's companions had died literally hours apart from one another and in the most unspeakable ways possible, heartbreak and betrayal had driven them to the brink, too much.

Too much had occurred that left all of them begging for a morning they hoped would bring them salvation, but for how long? They appeared to be safe right now, but once they made it back to civilization and received medical treatment, were debriefed by the authorities and hounded by the media, the aftermath of their collective nightmare in Raccoon City would finally have time to sink in.

Images of horror would assail the survivors at every given opportunity, haunting their dreams and even appearing to them during their waking hours as twisted hallucinations. Madness would come to them like a hungry beast ready for its latest meal, ready to claw and gnash at the fabric of their minds, weakened greatly by the horrors they endured. The memories of those who died would weigh down on them.

"Not me," Jake thought to himself, "I saw a lot of death and destruction in Raccoon City, but like I've said, I won't let it break me. I will be the master in the end, not fear nor sadness nor anger, just I and I alone. Besides, there wasn't really anything in this town I was attached to anyway, so I didn't really suffer any major losses anyway."

The criminal then looked to the other survivors, who had now regained their bearings and were making their way towards the tracks.

"But still, the people I escaped with have suffered greatly and probably lost countless lives close to them, and for what? One company's petty greed, give me a break. Umbrella will pay within due time."

"Oh god, is everybody alright?" Alyssa called out to the others scrambling up from the ditch, her efforts hampered by the dew-covered grass beneath her hands, nearly taking another spill before clenching handfuls of solid dirt and gravel.

"We're fine!" Leon shouted back, struggling to maintain a solid foothold while he and Claire struggled to haul Kevin to higher ground.

"But we're going to need to get you two to the nearest medical facility or else you won't be much longer," Claire added struggling with the mud beneath Kevin's weight.

"We…know…" Kevin grunted as another wave of pain shot through his torso, "…just quit yapping and…help me up…damn it…"

Alyssa was close to the three survivors and quickly scrambled over to help them up, relieving the already wounded Leon as she took Kevin by an arm and hauled him onto solid ground, breathing a collective sigh of relief as they collapsed to their knees.

"Ugh…this…sucks…" Kevin groaned feeling fresh blood beneath his bandages and breathing rapidly again. The itching sensation returned and the cop pressed against his chest hoping to close up his wounds, while fighting the urge to scratch them in the same breath. "Better give me some more…of that…first-aid spray…"

Pulling out an extra can of the Umbrella-manufactured first-aid spray; Claire knelt down beside the wounded officer again and pulled his bandages aside to treat the congealed wounds with small traces of blood seeping out beneath the scabs.

"Don't worry Kevin, you've come this far and we're not about to leave you behind. You're not dying until we give you the order to do so," Alyssa spoke in her usual bossy tone, but with good reason as it would only be the sheer force of will that would keep the man alive.

"Probably the only thing I can give to those Umbrella shitheads is that they sure know how to make medical supplies that'll heal you faster than normal," Leon spoke up, only to be silenced by sharp stares from both Claire and Alyssa.

"Whoa there Cowboy, I don't think now is the time to be singing Umbrella's praises," Jake spoke furrowing his brow at the rookie officer.

"Sorry…" Leon quickly apologized and then looked around at their wooded surroundings before he walked up to the criminal again. "So do you think any of those things could be out here – outside the city I mean?" he asked wiping some sweat away from his youthful face.

"I wouldn't doubt it," Jake replied flatly, "From what I saw; all the barricades in the city had been overrun, so there wouldn't be anything keeping them penned in anymore. It's like this city was just one big cage and the only reason they stuck around was for the all-you-can-eat buffet. Now that the city is nothing more than one large funeral pyre, I doubt they'll be sticking around there much longer."

Leon scoffed uneasily at the remark, "Great, we actually escape the place and we're still possibly nothing more than a meal in a can, that's all we've become. Once again thank you Umbrella."

"Don't worry, there's still time for us to thank those shady bastards…with our bullets of course," Jake added raising the S&W and pretending to point it at a target.

"That's the only way I'd be able to think of thanking any of those bastards," Jake thought to himself, "That company has ruined too many lives, even those of their own. Not all of them were evil though, Sebastian was just a good guy unwittingly caught up with the wrong crowd and there were probably plenty of others just like him who knew of the company's inner doings and wanted out, but couldn't or else they would've lost their own lives, or those close to them."

Jake then turned his attention towards Sherry Birkin, kneeling on the ground next to Claire as she worked on the fallen Kevin Ryman.

"An innocent child born to demons working for the Devil's company, such was the fate of many others as well. After everything she went through I doubt she'll be following in her parents' footsteps, a definite good thing. I wouldn't doubt the company won't come looking for her, she knows too much, the price of surviving."

"That was a close one!" Leon shouted looking towards the little girl, "That was pretty impressive back there Sherry!"

"It was nothing, I saw somebody do that on TV once," the little girl happily replied, "But then again that person also didn't have Jake there helping them out."

The criminal said nothing and only offered a small smile to the child.

A loud grunt sounded from behind and they turned around to find Kevin being slowly helped back to his feet by the two women.

"C'mon, we've gotta move out!" Claire suddenly barked.

"Why is there something following us?" Leon replied, withdrawing his customized H&K VP-70 and waving it around along the trees and mountain behind them, thinking perhaps another one of Umbrella's B.O.W.'s had survived and managed to track them down.

"Hey, we've still got a job to do remember," the young woman spoke looking over to Kevin and Alyssa and then towards Leon, Jake and Sherry.

The six survivors looked warily towards each other as they pondered what the future would have in store for them. It was almost certain they shared the mutual goal of bringing down the Umbrella Corporation. Jake himself shared that goal, but for now he also had other plans in mind.

"Chris…I have to find you!" Claire said aloud looking off into the distance at the end of the railroad tracks.

"That's not all…" Leon cut in, "We still have to stop Umbrella!"

Kevin and Alyssa both nodded in agreement.

"You're right, this is just the beginning," Alyssa muttered looking uneasily at her surroundings.

It was the beginning of a new battle, the war on Umbrella, a long drawn out conflict that would see much more bloodshed, one that would ruin many lives and end even more.

Umbrella was an international pharmaceutical conglomerate with offices in every corner of the world and they had employees practically everywhere. A war with Umbrella would span the entire globe followed by Death itself wherever it went; it would be a bloody affair few would survive if any at all.

"They will survive," Jake thought quietly, "They are capable, determined people. If they can work effectively as a team and survive a zombie-infested city, then anywhere else should be a cinch for them."

"Well where do we go to first?" Leon asked looking around to everybody, "If we're going to wage war against an international powerhouse like Umbrella then we're gonna need to get back to civilization. We'll need food, proper medical attention, some rest…" the rookie stopped mid sentence to look at his uniform, "…a change of clothes, and a whole lot of firepower," he finished motioning with his handgun.

"Not to mention…plenty more backup…" Kevin added with his arm wrapped around Alyssa, "They outnumber us a million to one, should at least have some backings from somebody before waging a full-scale war."

"Where are we going to find that though?" Claire asked standing next to Sherry with her hand on the girl's shoulder, "With all the people Umbrella employs I doubt we'll find much help right away. Plus with them being as large as they are, I wouldn't put it past them buying off a lot of high-ranking politicians. If they can buy off one lowly police chief then who knows what else they can get on their side."

"I just hope we can use all that evidence we gathered against them effectively," Alyssa said patting a side pack she had found in the facility which held all the evidence she had gathered against Umbrella.

"So just where do we go from here then?" Leon asked again, "The more we sit around and debate this, the more time those creeps have to continue their sick research."

"Yeah…the faster we move, the faster we can do something…" Kevin spoke trying to hobble forward, but was held back by Alyssa.

"Hmm, well the nearest town is miles away and would take us a good hour or so to reach on foot, but with both your conditions I doubt you'd be able to make it unless we find a working car or something," Alyssa reported closely checking Kevin's wounds and then looking over to Leon's bloodstained bandage.

"Well we're out in the middle of nowhere…I doubt we're going to find one too easily unless one magically appears right in front of us," Kevin grumbled as his patience finally met its end.

"What about you Jake? You have any ideas?" Claire asked turning her attention towards the career criminal, who had spent most of the conversation off to the side standing silently with arms crossed before his muscular chest.

"I'm just as clueless as the rest of you," the criminal retorted, "Hell if I know any safe locations around the area. Our best bet would probably be to split up anyway since we'll eventually be going about our own ways anyway."

"Are you serious?" Alyssa shouted in wide-eyed disbelief, "We can't split up just now! Where will you go? You're in no condition to wander off by yourself after what you've endured. Stay with us and we can find someplace together."

"I'd love to stay and chat, but you've got your own missions to fulfill," Jake replied and then motioned towards Claire, "She has a brother to find and needs to get that done as soon as possible."

The criminal then turned to Leon and Kevin, "They both have a company to bring down and look like they're itching to get it done right now, best let them get down to their job once they receive their medical attention."

Jake then spoke to the reporter herself, "You have that Pulitzer Prize to receive, best get hopping to it if you wish to be living in that fancy hilltop mansion away from us losers."

Finally, the criminal came to Sherry Birkin, who now rubbed Claire's hand as she stared timidly towards the muscular man. Jake offered only silence as he returned her gaze, a thin smile crossing his lips trying to assure her that things would be alright.

"No!" Alyssa shouted, releasing her grip on Kevin who now used his SPAS-12 shotgun as a crutch. The woman immediately got in his face showing no fear of his intimidating presence, "You can't just leave us like this. We've made it this far by sticking together and if you just up and leave you're only exposing yourself to more danger!"

"As if we're not in enough danger already by staying in one large group," Jake rebutted standing tall over the woman, "How the hell can you be certain that Umbrella doesn't already have snipers set up around the perimeter ready to pick off any survivors coming from the tunnel? We're in too much danger staying in one large group. If you have to, you can just break up into groups of two and move on for all I care."

"Well just what the hell are you going to do then if you know Umbrella is out to get you?" the reporter barked like an officer from the interrogation room, "That facility probably had security cameras streaming live feed to the main headquarters, how can you be certain they haven't already picked out your image and learned all your vital statistics already? Hell, they probably know everything about us as we speak right now. You would only be asking for trouble if you went out on your own!"

Jake once again raised his S&W, "After the wave I saved your asses countless times back in that facility don't you think you'd be able to get it through your head that I'm not as weak as you think? Guess not!" he scoffed arrogantly.

"Well just what the hell are you going to do once you go off on your own?" the reporter asked now crossing her arms and staring intently into his bluish-gray eyes.

"I have to deal with some personal business before I can go after Umbrella, something I need to do immediately," he flatly replied.

Holstering his magnum, the criminal stepped back to address the group, "I wish you much luck in your battle with Umbrella and hope you manage to kill every single one of those sick fucks, but for now I have an important issue that must be dealt with. One day though, I will be fighting alongside each of you again hopefully. Now if you'll excuse me, I must be on my way."

Before the criminal could even take a step forward, the cocking of a gun rang out from behind.

Turning around, Jake was met by the barrel of Leon's VP70, a look of fierce determination etched into the man's youthful features. "You aren't going anywhere shit bag!"

"Leon what are you doing?" Claire gasped running up to the officer and placing her gloved hands over his gun.

"Yeah, what gives?" Kevin called out from behind hobbling over to his younger friend, "Jake hasn't done anything wrong!"

"Bullshit!" Leon shouted back and wrenched his gun free from Claire's grasp again training it on the criminal's forehead, "You stay where you are or I'm going to put a bullet in that ugly face of yours!"

"Leon what is the matter with you?" Alyssa shouted walking towards the rookie with her hands raised, "You can't be that pissed about him going can you?"

"Yeah kid, you'd better back down or else you'll be asking for some serious pain," Jake flatly stated furrowing his brow again, showing no fear to the cop's sudden outburst, almost as if he could read the man's mind that he didn't intend to really shoot him.

"Let us deal with this Jake!" Alyssa shouted back to him before returning her attention to Leon.

"It's him you shouldn't be listening to!" Leon defiantly spat with an unwavering aim, "That man is a liar and a cold-blooded killer!"

"What the hell are you saying, Leon? That man just saved our lives back there!" Kevin shouted gripping his friend by his good shoulder.

"I'm saying the man is a wanted fugitive that's what!" Leon screamed at the older officer.

Claire's visage suddenly paled and she looked hurriedly back and forth between Leon and Jake, "What?" she blurted out in disbelief, "Jake?"

"You heard me right! He's a wanted fugitive!" Leon barked defiantly to those around him, "He's wanted for numerous counts of murder, armed robbery, extortion and a whole shitload of other offenses! He's a dangerous man!"

Jake stood silent to the rookie officer's accusations, no visible signs of emotion or attempts to defend himself. "Maybe someone leaked my true identity to him back in the facility, could've been that Annette bitch."

Leon kept his gun trained on Jake, holding it in one hand as he reached into one of his many pockets with the other and pulled out a folded up piece of paper. "You want proof? Here!" he spoke never taking his gaze away as he backed up to hand the paper to Alyssa.

The other three adult survivors stood quietly studying the wanted poster that had just been handed to them, Sherry cautiously keeping her distance. Absolute silence filled the air as they looked the poster over, their glances turning from confusion to disbelief and then to outright horror as they now found themselves in the presence of a wanted killer.

"Tell me how you plan on explaining that, Jake Cavanaugh! Or should I call you 'The Red Dragon?'" Leon growled placing a white knuckle grip on his gun, his finger itching on the steel trigger.

"Jake…" Alyssa quietly muttered stepping back with a look of horror etched upon her attractive features, nearly knocking over Sherry, who had now hidden herself behind Claire.

"Somebody let the cat out of the bag, huh? Didn't know I had a fan here in Raccoon City. Am I supposed to feel impressed or betrayed? I don't know," the criminal replied, a near smug expression appearing on his gruff face.

Jake stared at his five companions closely studying their awed glances as they now knew his true identity. He knew they would probably try some form of action against him and he kept both his hands ready, one that would reach for the katana strapped to his back and the other that would reach for the Beretta strapped to his right hip if need be.

The cocking of another gun was now heard and Kevin stepped forth next to Leon, holding his heavy customized Colt .45 in one hand while he held his makeshift crutch in the other.

"Yeah, now that I think about it, I've heard of you too Cavanaugh! Just never thought I'd be encountering you face to face!" the older man shouted, "You were all over the news a while back. You massacred an entire platoon of S.W.A.T. officers in Lincoln City when they tried to bust your ass at a local motel! You also led an attack on a casino in Las Venturas and leveled the place completely to the ground and from what I've heard; you also killed a bunch of wealthy socialites at a garden party of all places! You're a career criminal, a drug addict and above all, a cold-blooded cop killer!"

"Really, so that's what they're saying about me now?" Jake replied sounding amused, "I've been called a lot of things in my life, but never a drug addict. I wonder where the hell they came up with that? That's the biggest crock of shit I've ever heard said about me." He shrugged, "Whatever, career criminal is a fairly accurate term though."

"So it is true!" Claire joined in; raising her Browning HP at Jake's eye level while Sherry continued to hide behind her, peeking her head out for another look at the man she had come trust during the nightmare of Raccoon. "You really are a no good criminal who falsely gained our trust for your own gain!"

Jake chuckled slightly at the remark, "I wouldn't necessarily say I used all of you for my own gain, but rather for a mutual convenience. Without me, you would have all died back there in that house of horrors and without you; I'd probably be in the grave myself."

"You've got a price on your head you know, Cavanaugh!" Leon scowled looking out of the corner of his eye at Kevin and Claire, "I say we put a bullet in you and help ourselves to the reward money, get some kind of compensation after surviving this nightmare!"

"Is that so?" Jake sardonically smirked, "After all I did for your ungrateful ass and this is how you thank me? You could at least give me a head start if you're so intent on hunting me down."

"You shut the hell up!" Kevin roared nearly squeezing the trigger, "You're a wanted criminal, a menace to society! The only place you are going is to the nearest jail! We're placing you under arrest!" As if to emphasize the point, Leon used one hand to reach into his utility belt and pull out a set of gleaming handcuffs.

Jake now laughed slightly at the two officers, "Don't humor me pig! Do you seriously think you're in any position to be making an arrest in your sorry condition? Look at you; I could easily kill both of you where you stand without breaking a sweat! Is it worth the pain and suffering?

"Besides, the R.P.D. has gone up in flames, just where do you expect to haul my lawbreaking ass off to? Are you even a police officer anymore to begin with? Your jurisdiction, boss and co-workers are all gone, and with it your licenses to practice law enforcement. Right now you're probably just committing an illegal act of vigilantism." With those words the criminal smiled knowing frontier justice was not tolerated.

Kevin, Leon and Claire all stood silently with guns still trained on the career criminal, the officers both appearing visibly touched by his words. A tense silence followed and all that could be heard was the morning breeze gently blowing through the trees and bushes. He had each of them deadlocked now and they appeared to be hesitant to act against him, torn between their respective duties and the reality dawning upon their current situation.

"Well what's it going to be, Officers?" Jake asked, "Are you going to shoot me or are we all going to be able to walk away from this and onto our respective missions with no bloodshed?"

"Ha, yeah right! Like we're just going to let you walk away like that!" Kevin spat bitterly, "You lied to us all this time and you expect us to just let you off the hook like that? Whatever this "personal business" of yours is, how can we be certain it doesn't involve more innocents being endangered?"

"Trust me, after everything I've gone through I doubt I'd be up for more troublemaking," Jake replied looking to the three people before looking over to Alyssa again.

"Bullshit!" Leon roared, "You're up to no good and I can smell it from a mile away. You're too unpredictable for our liking and we can't have you running off by yourself. We don't trust you!"

"I trust him!" Alyssa called out, finally inserting herself into the tense standoff.

The three survivors were stopped dead in their tracks by the reporter's sudden outburst and for the first time in seemingly forever, they diverted their attention away from the career criminal, now staring at the woman in utter dismay as she walked over and took a position at the criminal's side.

"You what," Kevin asked in disbelief, "How can you trust him? He's a dangerous man who will stab you in the back once you've let your guard down!"

"He won't," Alyssa replied in a confident, assuring tone, "I know I haven't been around him long, but I don't think he will, not after everything we've done for him and not after everything he's done for us," she spoke turning to the man and smiling happily towards him, something out of character for the hard-edged reporter.

Taking another deep breath, the investigative reporter continued on with her case. "Jake Cavanaugh may be a convicted criminal, a piece of shit by our society's standards, but maybe there is a different side to him after all. He helped us out greatly during the outbreak back at the bar and if it weren't for him, you probably wouldn't be here pointing your gun at him right now," she spoke directly to Kevin.

"Thanks to this man's multitude of skills, several people survived the night of the initial outbreak, and from what I heard, he also went on to help plenty of other people as well."

Alyssa then turned her attention to Leon, Claire and Sherry, "Jake told me all about how he helped you survive an overrun police station and the sewers that followed. Judging by the trust you placed in this man, I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that everything he told me was the truth."

With her case made there, Alyssa then turned so she was looking the taller man directly in the eye, "That brings us to the research facility. I can testify firsthand that Jake helped immensely as we fought for our very lives in that slaughterhouse, watching as he used his multitude of skills to help us fight manmade abominations straight from a child's nightmare and later gather mountains upon mountains of evidence we will be able to use in our case against Umbrella.

"I fought alongside Jake as we battled the Tyrant-002, and so did Kevin. I was there when the four of us battled that mutated freak while we waited for the platform we hoped would take us to safety. Jake saved my life just as I was literally inches away from the mouth of doom, and it wasn't the first time. He saved me countless times both on the streets and in that accursed shithole back there."

Alyssa again turned to face the other four survivors, "He saved all of your lives on countless occasions as well and I think it's safe to say that if it weren't for Jake Cavanaugh, we would all be dead, more meaningless numbers chalked up on Umbrella's list of casualties. Thanks to Mr. Cavanaugh, we have lived to fight another day and in doing so, he has earned my trust."

More silence filled the air, the tension gradually fading as the reporter stepped in as an unlikely voice of reason. Leon and Kevin both looked to each other cautiously and with a nod slowly lowered their weapons. In turn, Leon looked over to Claire and nodded wordlessly, convincing her too to lower her weapon. Sensing an air of safety returning, Sherry stepped out from behind Claire and kept her arm wrapped around the young woman's waist.

"Thank you," Jake whispered to the reporter, nodding slightly towards her.

"No problem, I think we should be thanking you for everything you did for us," Alyssa replied and again faced the others, "Sure, you might be a wanted criminal and all, but right now you are the least of our worries. We have a much greater threat in the form of Umbrella to deal with and we're not going to be continuing our fight with the real enemy if we stand around here shooting each other. You would make a valuable ally in this crusade and right now we're going to need all the help we can get." The reporter then stepped forth towards the others, "Don't you agree?"

The other four survivors looked carefully towards each other and nodded among themselves before turning back to Jake and Alyssa.

"I guess you have a point Alyssa, but I still don't know if I can trust him completely," Kevin spoke shooting a cautious glare towards Jake, "He lied to us all this time about who he was and why he was here. He could have stabbed us in the back whenever he pleased and gone about his merry way at any moment."

"But he didn't," Alyssa cut in.

"Yeah, he didn't," the older officer continued, "But he has still rattled our trust and how can we be certain he won't just go off and cause trouble elsewhere if we let him go?"

"I won't," Jake flatly replied, his gaze speaking alone that he was telling the truth. "I do not target the innocent on purpose like some criminals do. You have my word that no harm shall come to any innocents wherever I venture off to. Any of Umbrella's bitches I cannot guarantee."

The remark actually broke some of the tension and to their surprise; the other survivors chuckled lightly at the comment and for a moment forgot about everything that had gone on. As quickly as it began, the moment was very brief and within seconds the six survivors were back to business.

"But where will you go now and what is this "personal business" of yours that has to be taken care of?" Alyssa asked, a worried expression now crossing her features.

Jake said nothing right away and using a slight wave of his hand motioned for the woman to come closer. Noticing the two police officers he decided they should probably know about this and motioned for them to approach as well. Sherry did not need to hear what he was about to say and looked at Claire as if he were telling her to keep her distance and stay by the little girl. When the three survivors he motioned for were close enough he lowered his head and they followed in sync, like football players in a huddle.

"Alright, what I'm about to tell each of you I want to remain strictly between the four of us. Whatever you do, don't tell Sherry, she doesn't need to be hearing this," he whispered to the trio and then raised his head up again to catch another glimpse of Sherry, who still remained close to Claire gripping the woman's hand tightly.

Taking another deep breath, Jake calmly explained himself, "Remember that monster we killed back in the tunnel? In case you didn't know, that freak was once William Birkin. I was sent here to eliminate him, for whom and what reason I honestly don't know."

"William Birkin?" Alyssa asked, "Other than working on the G-Virus, what would anybody else have had against him?"

"I overheard a conversation in the sewers, one between his wife Annette and Ada," Jake spoke, looking towards Leon as he mentioned the woman's name, "She said something about the company trying to take his project away from him, probably to use it for them. When he refused, they shot him up pretty badly and he injected himself with the virus to keep himself alive, explaining how he ended up the way we found him."

"Whoever this person was that hired you must not have known about his transformation when they sent you in," Kevin added looking to the others.

"Probably," Jake continued, "All I know is I received a phone call from some mysterious schmuck who wanted Birkin dead by any means necessary. Like I said, why they wanted Birkin dead instead of some Umbrella higher-up, I have no clue."

"And just what were you promised for this hit?" Leon asked, his tone dripping with suspicion.

"Ten million dollars," Jake replied, eliciting a small whistle from Kevin.

"How can you be certain you'll be given this reward for completing your mission?" Leon continued staring warily into the criminal's eyes, "For all we know, it could have been one of Umbrella's own who sent you into the city, wanting you to eliminate a troublesome employee when one of their hit squads couldn't get the job done."

"Yeah, you're probably nothing more than a pawn in one large, demented game of chess," Alyssa now entered, "How can you be sure that it's not a trap and that you'll only be disposed of once they know you've completed your mission?"

The reporter made a good point. Ever since he had learned of Umbrella's involvement in the matter he had begun to suspect that perhaps his "mysterious benefactor" was in fact one of the company's own. Jake knew he was dealing with a company that had a legitimate business image to protect and could not afford to expose themselves to the common public, meaning they would need someone to do their dirty work for them. Perhaps Jake was that unlucky soul chosen to do their work for them.

"Yeah, you've got a point," Jake replied, but then withdrew his powerful S&W, "but I'm not as much of a pushover as they might think. Yes, I do realize this person who called me is probably no better than those Umbrella bastards, but if this person is up to no good then believe me, he'll be having some serious troubles once we meet face to face."

"Don't get too cocky, remember it would be you against thousands," Kevin spoke carefully, "You might be good, but you wouldn't stand a chance even against that many. Where are you supposed to be going for this meeting? Maybe we should tag along for support."

Jake looked annoyingly towards the officer before speaking again, "This is something I have to do alone. Where I will meet this person at I have no idea. This person never said anything about when he would contact me or where, guess I'll just have to play it by ear and see what happens."

Before the conversation could end there was one last thing Jake had to do. Reaching into his side pack, the criminal pulled out the entire stack of evidence he had amassed and handed it over to Alyssa. "There, that's everything I managed to get my hands on in Raccoon City, should be more than enough to help you out. Overkill, you could call it, but in this case it's a good thing. They detail a lot of ruined lives and shattered dreams, definitely an interesting read."

"Thanks, it will help a lot," Alyssa said happily accepting the newly-gathered evidence.

With the additional evidence given out, the four survivors stood tall once again and looked to each other before Jake spoke up again.

"Well, I guess I'll be on my way then," the criminal said holstering his magnum revolver, "All I can really do now is wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors. Umbrella will be a tricky opponent to bring down, but within due time it will happen and I'm certain I will be fighting by your side again one day to help you send those beasts to their eternal graves."

Jake stood tall and turned on his heel, "Until then, I bid you all farewell."

The criminal had only taken three steps when they called out to him again.

"Wait!"

Turning around Jake found Kevin and Leon walking towards him ready to ask one last question.

"Jake listen, before you go we have one last question for you," Kevin spoke looking over to Leon and then back to Jake. Clearing his throat he spoke, "I know this may sound like a goofy question, but we need to ask. Why didn't you kill us back there? From what we've heard you're a cold-blooded cop killer."

The criminal sighed heavily and rolled his eyes, "I'm not as cold-blooded as you think, Officer. You haven't done me any wrong so why should I to you? I may be a convicted killer, but I still have a sense of honor. Besides, in this case it was a matter of mutual need, you needed me and I needed you to survive, us fighting amongst ourselves would've been a waste of ammo and valuable allies. Therefore, I allowed both of you to live. Had you turned your guns on me sooner, I would not have hesitated to fire back."

Kevin and Leon looked at each other again, feeling both awkward and relieved.

"Okay, good luck on your mission then. Hopefully you'll be able to hold up your end of the deal," Kevin spoke with a slight wave.

Exchanging a brief wave with the other survivors, Jake turned on his heel and made his way down the railroad tracks and into the approaching daytime.

"Good luck Jake," Alyssa muttered lightly watching every step the man took until he become a black blur in the distance and then completely disappeared.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The sun now burned high and brightly in the air as Jake Cavanaugh continued his solitary walk towards an unknown destination, a strange tranquility wafting through the soundless air as he soldiered forth in the beaming daylight down a highway that was literally in the middle of nowhere.

It had been nearly three hours since the criminal had separated himself from the others and was now miles away from any form of civilization. How many exactly he had no clue and nor did he see any road signs to confirm if he was anywhere near the closest community. Fortunately, there were no signs of any zombies, B.O.W.'s, or any Umbrella personnel showing up to silence him; everything had been a peaceful trek so far.

However, Jake's natural instincts told him that the peace wouldn't last much longer. At any time he would be bound to finally meet his mysterious benefactor and he could sense a possible ambush right there. He was ready to fight if need be and was almost certain he would end up killing this fellow if given the chance after everything he was put through.

"Like he wouldn't deserve it," Jake thought to himself, "who knows if he's put any other unfortunate souls through similar horrors just because he can't be caught doing it himself."

The criminal took another good look at his surroundings. Wide open fields now replaced the lush vegetation he had first discovered upon his escape from the research facility, the prominent shades of green now replaced by dull brown and golden shades. The blue sky remained clear with a few clouds here and there, giving him a splendid view of the Arklay Mountains in the distance. "No doubt Raccoon City must've been quite the place to live until Umbrella came along and ruined everything, definitely looks like a nature lover's dream come true," he thought to himself.

A low rumbling broke the criminal out of his reverie and he placed a gloved hand over his stomach. It had been a while since he had a decent meal and now that he was free of any visible threats his own hunger had finally been given the chance to kick in. He knew it was highly unlikely, but secretly Jake had hoped to happen across maybe a small diner or rest stop hoping to find a small meal, even if it only meant getting a candy bar. Anything was better than nothing.

Approaching his latest mile, the criminal was halted by a sound he had not heard in over a week, the electronic ringing of his cellular phone.

"What the hell?" Jake asked aloud wondering who would be calling him out here of all times, but then quickly reached for the phone knowing who it had to be and brought it to his ear pushing the talk button.

"Why hello Mr. Cavanaugh," the icy voice boomed from the other end, in the same mocking tone it spoke during the very first call, "good to hear you are still among the living. I trust you completed your mission as per requested then."

The sound of the mysterious voice set off alarms within the criminal's head and his blood began to boil. A floodgate suppressing Jake's emotions had now opened and the uncontrollable rage he had been holding back suddenly poured into his system and overtook him.

"You!" he hollered into the phone, gripping the small plastic device to the point where his gloved hand nearly crushed it, "You fucking bastard! You lied to me! You told me Birkin was still alive and I ended up wandering into the middle of a zombie infested shithole! Give me a damned good reason why I shouldn't track you down right now and cut you up into tiny strips after what you just put me through!"

"My, my Jacob," The Man spoke, pretending to sound hurt, "Is that any way to talk to someone who has taken you under their wing and granted you such a generous offer? I was just calling you to offer my congratulations on a job well done."

Jake panted heavily while listening to the man's voice, trying hard to contain his rage before he could do something that would injure himself. He had literally been to Hell and back only to have this "benefactor" laugh in his face, definitely not the kind of congratulations he expected for a job well done. Then again, maybe he had to expect it judging from the arrogant way the man approached him from literally out of nowhere and requested his services.

"Whatever you deceptive prick, just get down to business so I can get my damned money!" the criminal shouted still unable to contain his fury.

"Now, is that how you talk to all of your employers? I knew you were a maverick by nature, but this is too much," The Man chuckled, "Maybe I should take your reward and give it to the next hopeless schmuck I had lined up for this job."

"Fine," Jake spoke calming down a little, but with a voice still heavily tinged in ire, "Go on and make it quick!"

"Thank you," The Man spoke clearing his voice, "Now as I was saying, I was calling to congratulate you on a job well done. Dr. Birkin was a great threat to my people and I, and yet he also possessed something that was of great importance to us."

"The G-Virus," Jake interrupted.

"I see you have learned from your time in Raccoon. Yes, the doctor had the virus in his possession, something of great importance to us. Unfortunately, the last sample of the virus was destroyed when the base's self-destruct sequence was activated, and yes, we were monitoring your progress while you were there."

"So what are you with the government or something?" Jake scoffed as he thought of his distaste for the U.S. government in general, particularly President Alex Shrub.

The Man only laughed slightly at Jake's question, "That I am afraid I cannot answer right now, but you will know who I am within due time."

"Yeah, keep going pal," Jake cut in.

"I figure I've kept you in the dark long enough and that now would be a good time to arrange a face to face meeting, the opportunity to finally meet my "handyman" in person and give you your hard earned reward."

"Alright, you've got my undivided attention," the criminal replied, "Now what's your master plan?"

"At this point in time, the community you should be closest to is Springvale. It is still half an hour away from Raccoon City and with your weakened state, would be impossible to reach by foot. Luckily for you, I have arranged some transportation that should be about less than a mile ahead of you on your right."

Jake temporarily diverted his attention and looked ahead, seeing a small red and black blur in the distance which looked too small to be a car so he assumed it was probably a motorcycle.

"Meet me at Springvale High School, high noon, no sooner, no later. I look forward to our meeting." The line went dead.

"Arrogant fucking bastard," Jake thought to himself switching off the phone and sliding it back into his pocket. The criminal didn't have much time to grumble though as he had to reach his destination. Breaking into a quick sprint, he made his way over to the object which would serve as his transportation.

As he got closer, the criminal saw that his provided transportation was a black and red Harley-Davidson Freeway, one similar to the kind his motorcycle enthusiast uncle used to own. Not too far away, he also saw a bump that he could easily identify as a body and decided he would check out the corpse first.

Laying facedown in the dirt was the large figure of a man who had been over six feet tall and had long sandy blonde hair. What stood out the most right away was the denim vest he wore with the familiar horned skull design on the back, identifying him as a member of the Road Demons biker gang Ace had belonged to.

"A Road Demon out here in the middle of nowhere?" Jake asked aloud nudging the body with his shoe. Using his foot the criminal overturned the biker's body and found what had caused his death.

An entire clip had been fired into the man's chest, judging by the width of the exit wounds he assumed they were probably .45 rounds. Taped to the biker's bullet-riddled chest he found a message scrawled on a sheet of regular notebook paper written in big letters reading "RIGHT IDEA CAVANAUGH!"

"That bastard must've done this himself," Jake thought remembering how the man had so accurately pointed out where he would find an available mode of transportation. "If you can kill a man who had nothing to do with this ordeal, then why couldn't you just kill Birkin yourself?" he said aloud.

Kneeling down again Jake patted the man's pockets for any additional ammo, but only found a mostly consumed pack of cigarettes, plastic Zippo lighter and a wallet with five hundred dollars cash but no form of identification.

He did however find a picture of a clean-shaven younger man and a beautiful young brunette woman with small brown-haired child standing at their side and in the woman's arms she cradled a newborn baby girl. Jake studied the picture closely and then looked at the facial features of the man lying before him and back to the man in the photograph. Despite the biker's face being covered in a scraggly brown braided beard and the long hair, he could tell that the two men were one in the same, maybe the deceased man in his younger years.

"Sorry, but I'm going to need this more than you do," the criminal spoke to the corpse removing the money from the wallet and placing it into his own. Knowing it must have been of great importance to the dead man; he kept the family photo in the wallet and slid it back into the biker's pocket where he found it.

Upon closer inspection, he could tell that the man's bluish-green eyes were still slightly opened and in a show of respect, he closed them for the dead man. Taking another look at the man's vest he noticed the name "Snake" stitched in red cursive lettering.

"Rest in peace, Snake, I'm sure I know who did this to you and I'm going to make the bastard pay." He stood tall with his head bowed in a moment of silence over the fallen Road Demon and then made his way over to the man's motorcycle.

Approaching the powerful bike he took a moment to admire its customized design and saw that it also bore the very emblem the Road Demons had embroidered on the backs of their vests. Taped to the black leather seat he found a folded up map and quickly ripped it off.

The map was identical to the one he had seen in the R.P.D.'s briefing room during the meeting, and in a traced in what was probably the same red marker from the note on the biker's corpse, a route from Raccoon City to Springvale. A second piece of paper was attached looking like it was freshly printed displaying a map of the entire Springvale area. A path leading to the community's high school was drawn out and written out was a message echoing The Man's words, "HIGH NOON! NO SOONER, NO LATER!"

"Really trying to hammer the point down," Jake remarked as he turned around to find a package of military-grade rations resting on the back behind him and enjoyed a quick meal.

After his meal was finished the career criminal sat around for a while killing some time and thinking about what he would do once his reward was collected and when he moved on, if he would be able to. Jake sat around until he had a little over an hour left. Reaching into another pocket, the criminal pulled out his War Eagle sunglasses and revved up the motorcycle.

Gunning the engine, he took off down the desolate highway at full speed, the wind ruffling his spiked up hair and long-tailed trench coat blowing behind him as he turned the radio to the nearest rock station, FROC FM, blasting the hard rock tune "Them Bones" by Alice in Chains.

It was going to be an important meeting and he wanted to loosen the tension before it would happen. The sounds of a motorcycle's roaring engine and hard rock music cut through the once soundless air, returning signs of life to the once barren fields on the outskirts of Raccoon City.

"Get ready pal, I'm coming."

Author's Note: Next chapter Jake has an important meeting and I will finally be answering a long overdue question for all of you my loyal readers who have followed this story since the beginning. Read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	42. Chapter 37: Face to Face

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Author's Note: Hey everybody, I just wanted to thank all of my loyal reviewers for helping this fic reach an impressive 200 reviews! I wouldn't have gotten this far if it wasn't for your support and believe me I do what I can to impress and draw in the reviews. Like I said in the last chapter, this one is going to have a long pondered question finally answered and hopefully will delight all of you. Other than that, there are a few references made to real life bands which I do not own, just getting that legal tidbit out of the way. Well take care and read and review!

Chapter 37: Face to Face

Up until a few minutes ago the whole world had passed by in a blur as Jake raced the motorcycle through the open countryside on the outskirts of Raccoon City towards his new destination of Springvale. Thankfully the trip so far had been without its difficulties almost as if the beasts that came with the accursed city stayed with the hellhole they emerged from.

The trip itself had proven to be sheer bliss as the criminal was freed from the torturous images he had seen for four days straight, the images of death and suffering. Gone were the smoke-filled skies, burning buildings, car wrecks and puddles of blood and in their place were bright blue skies with regular white clouds, grass-covered hills and the Arklay Mts. in the distance, bountiful trees of different kinds and quaint ponds and streams. Zombies and B.O.W.'s were no where to be found, although Jake still found it slightly odd that he had not yet spotted any birds in the air, deer cutting across the empty road or any other form of wildlife for the matter, almost as if they no longer existed.

Racing down tortuous roads and hills the scenery reminded him much of the Red County/Badlands area from his days in San Andreas running errands for numerous crime bosses and participating in the illegal backwoods racing tournaments.

Any signs of the human presence were few and far between in the open country area, his most recent being a dairy farm he had passed a few miles back, assuming it to be abandoned if the T-Virus had made it this far into the open. A few small houses and log cabins were present, both in the open fields and hidden under the canopy of tall trees. Along the way the criminal had also spotted a small bar called the Pitchfork Inn and a nearby motel called the Lazy Pond Resort, both of which had several vehicles parked outside. It was tempting to stop and see if there were actual living people inside, but The Man's warning burned brightly in his mind and kept him moving forward. Knowing his mysterious benefactor, with the way he seemed to have an eye on him from wherever he hid, he would probably know if Jake stopped somewhere and probably send a pack of henchmen to butcher everybody in the building. No use endangering any more innocents who have nothing to do with this matter.

Jake continued his ride down the country road as the distorted guitar riffs of Soundgarden's "Rusty Cage" now gave way to the menacing sonic punch of Pantera's "Cowboys from Hell." A green road sign indicated that he was now five miles away from the Springvale city limits and he quickly switched his course and drove in the given direction.

The motorcycle sped forth towards another community, unaware of a black van at the Lazy Pond carrying four individuals who had their own grudge against Umbrella.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A short time had passed before Jake Cavanaugh finally spotted a large weathered brown sign with fresh-looking white letters that bore the greeting "Welcome to Springvale, Population 12,973."

"Alright I'm here. Now to get my reward and get the hell out of this shithole forever," Jake thought to himself as he slowed the motorcycle a little thinking there would probably be some cop hidden nearby ready to catch the first speeder to cross his path. The wide open pastures were now replaced by towering oak trees on both sides of the road and in the distance he spotted what looked like a ranger's station with a dark green Ford Ranger parked outside.

"Wonder if Ranger Rick would know anything about any suspicious characters showing up in his small hick town," the criminal thought to himself speeding forth, the radio's tune now switching to "Hellraiser" by Ozzy Osbourne.

Traveling further down the road, Jake happened across an abandoned Clover muscle car parked on the side with no visible signs of damage, suggesting something had probably happened to the engine and that it had been abandoned until a tow truck could come retrieve it, nothing to arouse serious suspicion until he spotted a few more cars not much farther away.

On the opposite side of the road was a dinged-up Merit that had swerved to a halt and still had its driver side door hanging open. A 70's era Walton pickup truck was a few feet behind it wrapped around one of the massive oaks, looking as if one of the vehicles had attempted to swerve out of the way of the other. Not much further was a Pony van riddled with bullet holes and the back doors had been pried open, blood splattered all over the interior of the vehicle.

The sight of more blood made the career criminal's blood turn to ice and he brought the cycle to a complete halt.

"Crap, am I wandering into another fucking Raccoon?" Jake spat aloud as he stared at the shot up vehicle, remembering all the bullets fired and blood splatters and the dead bodies that soon accompanied them in that cursed city.

Acting on instinct he withdrew one of his Berettas and scanned the surrounding area for any potential threats. Seeing none he re-holstered the weapon and took a closer look at several of the trees at each side. A few of them were covered in pockmarks inflicted by bullets and few after them bore slash marks deep enough they could have only been inflicted by a Hunter.

"Looks like something happened here too," the criminal said quietly gripping the handlebars tightly. The thought dawned on him that maybe he should just turn around and get as far away from this hellhole as he possibly, but it only flashed in his mind and was quickly gone. Jake knew for sure that if he tried running he would certainly be tracked down and killed where he stood, besides to run away from a fight wasn't his nature. The career criminal was a stand alone brawler who would fight to his very last breath if need be.

Pressing the gas again Jake resumed his venture down the empty road passing the burnt out shell of a Regina station wagon that had knocked over a sign indicating he was near the Crystal River Campground. Further down the road he had happened across an abandoned black and white police Ranger that bore the emblem of the Douglas County Sheriff's Department. The vehicle had been shot up and smeared in blood with several spent shotgun casings lying near the remnants. What was strange though as he had noticed with the abandoned van was that despite the presence of blood, there were no bodies to be found anywhere.

"Almost as if they decided to order carryout this time around," Jake thought as he pondered what could be lurking within this new community. He also had to ponder if he was well-armed for another possible battle this time around. After all the fighting he had done in Raccoon City his stock had been mostly depleted, but he still carried a sizeable amount of ammo for his dual Berettas and still had his sword and combat knife as a last resort. The S&W was another story altogether.

In the research facility he had battled more B.O.W. creatures and need to rely more upon the heavier weaponry, expending two-thirds of the powerful gun's ammunition. For hand grenades, he still carried two M-68 fragmentation grenades that he was prepared to use if he encountered another large crowd.

If he was lucky he wouldn't have to fight at all, but after surviving the necropolis Raccoon City had become, he knew his odds still weren't very good whenever he wished for something.

After gaining considerable distance from the abandoned vehicles the endless array of trees began to gradually thin out as he approached a clearing and it was there he finally spotted some buildings, but with them the signs of disaster became worse.

The first building to Jake's left was a dollar store with its windows smashed and door torn from the hinges. Debris from the store littered the outside sidewalk and near the entrance he found a broken shotgun showing that a battle had taken place there. Next to it had been a hardware store, now reduced to a pile of smoking rubble, the blackened remnants of a glass bottle pointing to what had possibly caused the blaze. Several more storefronts and small apartment buildings had been desecrated bearing similar markings from the previous small shops and restaurants like one mass riot had just occurred, but the young criminal knew better.

Streets were thick with deserted cars, trashed roadblocks, overturned mailboxes, remnants of road construction and other hazards that had slightly slowed down his progress, but thanks to his smaller motorcycle he was easily able to navigate around most of the wreckage and press further on.

Much like the site of the wrecked vehicles he had found along the highway, Jake found no bodies lying around anywhere despite the presence of blood. Whether they were human or undead or even those of B.O.W.'s, it was still odd for him to come in and find no bodies lying around as proof a battle had taken place. Either some people had survived and disposed of all the bodies, the monsters had eaten the bodies whole this time rather than leaving behind mangled carcasses, or maybe they had been dead for a while and something from the T or G Virus had caused them to simply dissolve into thin air.

"I'll interrogate the asshole about that later," Jake said quietly swerving his bike past a scorched mail truck and then cutting through the remnants of an outdoor fruit and vegetable market.

According to his map, he should be three blocks away from the city's high school. There was still many hazards littering the streets before him, but knew he could maneuver around them. He was more concerned though about possible threats lurking in the shadows and kept a pistol nearby in case something decided to attack him when he least expected in the literal ghost town he had just wandered into.

Jake slowed the cycle down a little as he approached a four-way intersection with its stoplights still flashing, where a fire engine had plowed through a delivery truck and minivan head on into a small jewelry store. Beyond that wreck was another one where a Med-Flight chopper had crash landed through the roof of a chiropractor's clinic, its rotors having slashed away at the surface of the adjoining office building before its abrupt landing, the front exterior of the small office looking normal aside from blackened windows. Outside a small bar called the Grease Monkey, a Mazda Kuruma had overturned and smashed into the establishment's front door, barring possible entry entirely. A few additional motorcycles had been knocked over during the accident and were now probably inoperable as a result. More spent bullet casings littered the ground near the wrecked cycles, suggesting another battle had gone down outside the bar.

"Damn, right now I'd welcome the idea of a zombie stumbling out from the nearest alley. All this silence and no dead bodies in sight, too fucked up even for me," Jake thought pressing forth down the next block, which contained a bookstore, electronics shop, Well Stacked Pizza restaurant, gun shop and a few apartment buildings, all of which had been ransacked as well leaving nothing of use for the criminal. The next block wasn't much better containing more shops, restaurants and apartments that were in worse condition, most of which had been set ablaze and now their charred facades remained. The presence of abandoned fire trucks and ambulances suggested the local workers had probably tried in vain to save the buildings before whatever it was that had happened claimed their lives in one full swoop.

The chaos surrounding the young career criminal suddenly took a backseat as he looked forward and spotted his destination just one block away from him: Springvale High School.

Gunning the gas again with no regard for anything that could possibly leap out after him, the criminal sped down the remaining block and within seconds he found himself near the large brown and white sign that bore the message "Springvale High School: Where tolerance and community come first," quite an ironic message for whatever had just happened in the sleepy town.

Jake slowed the bike down again and drove through the gates into the employee parking lot where a few cars still remained in various stages of disrepair and a big yellow school bus was nearly tipped over as a result of its side tires being popped. Pulling into a stall next to a Blista Compact, the criminal again looked around carefully and cut the motor.

Absolute silence filled the air now that the motorcycle had been switched off and the following eeriness caused Jake to draw his dual Berettas, pointing them in all directions like he expected an ambush. Hearing nothing, he now returned his focus to the school.

Springvale High School was a rather small-looking building with a large white brick portion at the front and two side wings consisting of red brick and covered in windows. A small courtyard waited beyond the parking lot with beautiful flower bushes and small trees surrounding a small fountain with a few stone benches in front of an American flag high above. Several picnic tables were present and were littered in abandoned backpacks, notebooks, lunchboxes, walkmans and even a few skateboards. A small fenced-in basketball court stood next to the courtyard and a basketball lay in a large pool of blood, almost as if one large massacre occurred right there in the middle of a game.

Aside from the shattered windows and bullet holes the place almost reminded him of his old high school and with it, he remembered much of what happened: all the bullying, all the times he was suspended or arrested for defending himself when other classmates were really at fault, watching his closest friends have hurtful pranks played on them, being looked down upon constantly by the faculty just for being different, and then a woman who changed his life forever. It was indeed a rough time for him, but he could dwell upon that later. Right now he had a reward to collect and the faster he got it, the faster he could get out of this godforsaken ghost town forever.

Slowly climbing the ivory steps, the suspicious feeling never left the man's gut and as he approached the doors, Jake peered in through the windows making sure there were no visible threats before entering.

Inside the signs of battle were prominent once again. All of the walls were charred and several holes in the wall suggested explosives had been detonated around the building. Once bright blue lockers were now covered in soot and either heavily dented or pried open spilling their contents onto the blackened, pock marked tile floor. The floor was still damp in several spots too showing that the overhead sprinklers had been activated at one point, the water turned crimson by nearby pools of blood.

Jake moved slowly down the hall using the daylight from outside to guide him in the darkness. He passed what appeared to be a chemistry lab where a human skeleton had been thrown through the window and smoke still wafted through the air from a fizzling fire that would soon be extinguished. Across the hall was a history classroom where the door had been torn from its hinges and a trail of blood made it look as if a body was dragged from the room. Further down he found another classroom with a large portion of the wall destroyed and another with the walls literally painted in blood, accompanied by claw marks that could have only been made by either a Licker or a Hunter. A big battle had gone on here as well and the brooding atmosphere made it feel as if he was walking through a video game he used to play called Violent Hell. (A/N: Yes, that is a Silent Hill reference you have all just happened across!)

Turning a corner, the career criminal happened across the school's cafeteria with its doors chained shut and a note posted to them. He quickly tore the piece of paper from the door and read it quietly to himself.

_You're getting warmer Cavanaugh, just a few more steps and you will have what is rightfully yours!_

Jake crumpled the piece of paper and tossed it aside and broke into a run passing the school's gymnasium before he came across a set of double doors indicated as the school's auditorium and found another message posted to the door that read "COME ON IN MR. CAVANAUGH."

"So this is it?" Jake thought to himself taking a few deep breaths and making sure his twin Berettas were both fully loaded. Stealing a quick glance at his watch he realized that he had made it just in time. After all he had been forced to endure in the madhouse of Raccoon City here it would hopefully end once and for all. He would claim his reward and then disappear from Pennsylvania forever a much wealthier man. If it was a sham, then he would kill this mysterious benefactor and every single bastard he brought with him.

Nodding to no one in particular, the criminal gripped one of the door handles and threw the door open, launching himself inside with dual Berettas raised.

Beyond the double doors was a large cavernous auditorium that had remained seemingly untouched by the battles outside. The room was dimly-lit aside from small guide lights lining the aisles and a pair of spotlights in the rafters illuminating the stage at the front of the room. Jake again pointed his guns in all directions awaiting an ambush, but so far the room appeared deserted.

"Nice of you to finally join us Mr. Cavanaugh!" an icy voice called out from the darkness. The disembodied voice made Jake's hairs stand on end and he quickly pointed his guns at the stage. He recognized the voice immediately, the voice of the mysterious benefactor who had sent him on the literal suicide mission into Raccoon City.

"I must say, it truly is a pleasure to finally meet the legendary Red Dragon in person. Please do accept my humblest apologies if your trip here was at all troublesome," The Man spoke in his arrogant manner that made the criminal want to put a bullet in his skull right away.

"Alright cut the crap!" Jake shouted back, "I came here for what is rightfully mine, now enough with the games! Show yourself at once! Please!" he boomed, speaking his last word in the stressed, spiteful manner he had been driven to from all the mind games.

"Since you said please, then your wish is my command," The Man replied and a figure emerged from behind the curtain.

Stepping into the light was a man in his late 30's who stood about six feet tall with short blonde hair he wore slicked back. The man wore an indistinguishable uniform which made him look like either a law enforcement officer or military personnel consisting of black cargo pants, a black flak vest, black undershirt, black gloves and black combat boots. A headset was also attached to the man's right ear, assuring that he probably did not come alone. What stood out most about this individual was the pair of black mirror-lens shades he wore in the darkness, like he had something to hide.

"Allow me to introduce myself, I am Albert Wesker and yes Jake, I was your mysterious benefactor."

Albert Wesker! That name Jake knew right away, he was the former captain of the R.P.D.'s S.T.A.R.S. unit who had been involved with Umbrella, the man from the hidden photographs he found in the man's desk. Now the traitorous leech stood before him with a smug grin plastered on his features like he had something else planned.

"So it was you all along?" Jake asked taking a few steps towards the man, keeping his guard up against the newly-revealed benefactor. "You're the 'generous fellow' who sent me on a literal suicide mission into that overrun shithole that nearly got me killed God knows how many times, all because you had a grudge with some nobody researcher."

Wesker ignored the insult and crossed his arms, "I wouldn't necessarily say I sent you after a 'nobody researcher' Mr. Cavanaugh. William Birkin was a highly dangerous man who needed to be dealt with. Unfortunately because of circumstances far beyond my control, I needed an 'outside contractor' to do my job for me, which is where you came into play."

"Uh huh, I didn't know my reputation preceded me by that much," Jake replied sarcastically.

"I've heard much about you my friend," Wesker continued, nearly making Jake want to vomit when he referred to him as a "friend" of all things, "At first I thought my contact was on some drunken ramble when your name first came to my attention, but yet I gave you the benefit of the doubt long enough to see you in action first. I was there while you fought for your very life, and I must say I was highly impressed by your abilities."

"So you were in Raccoon City when the shit hit the fan too?" Jake asked never removing his eyes from the man, but keeping his ears open for any possible sounds in the distance.

Wesker nodded slightly, "Yes Jake I was there and I watched your every move from a safe distance. However, you did almost have a premature face to face meeting with me back at that apartment complex. It wasn't the right time to reveal myself to you, so you had to be 'restrained.'"

Jake remembered seeing nothing but a black glove before he was knocked unconscious by his unseen assailant and then looked up to Wesker, who wore black gloves. It all made sense now and the throbbing pain in his cheek he had the next day suddenly returned. It was Albert Wesker himself who had knocked him out.

"So it was you who knocked me out!" Jake growled, the anger creeping into his voice.

Wesker nodded again, "Yes, it was I who knocked you out, but thankfully with enough force to only render you unconscious. I needed you alive so I let you be. It was obvious you would wake up in pain and for that I am truly sorry, I just hope those gifts I left behind for you were enough compensation for my unnecessary act of aggression."

"Guess I have some gratitude for that right there, at least that ammo helped me quite a bit against that Birkin freak. Probably the only good thing you did for me in that shithole," Jake replied gripping his guns tighter.

"I did more for you than you think," Wesker replied tilting his head downward slightly, "and if it weren't for me, you wouldn't be here right now to accept your award."

"Yeah, right," Jake spoke wanting to roll his eyes, but keeping them locked firmly on his benefactor, "Now that I'm here just give me my reward so I can get the hell out of this place forever."

Wesker's expression was now neutral and he took a step backward placing his arms behind your back, "Ah yes there is that matter of that too. You gave a satisfactory performance Mr. Cavanaugh and for that I will be a man of my word and give you your reward."

With a snap of his fingers, several heavily armed men in bulky black combat gear appeared from behind the curtain followed by a short red-haired man in a dark green suit holding a briefcase. He couldn't see them right away, but Jake could feel more armed individuals present in the large auditorium, waiting above him from the balconies and probably with weapons trained on him to make sure he didn't do anything stupid.

"Mr. Burbank, please give Mr. Cavanaugh his reward money," Wesker spoke to the suited man holding the briefcase.

The green-suited man looked down to Jake, a look of unease on his pudgy features as he slowly stepped towards the criminal. He was visibly intimidated by the man's aura and suddenly stopped halfway, placing the briefcase on the stage and sliding it towards him with his foot.

Jake caught the briefcase before it could hit the ground and took a few steps backward up the aisle before unsnapping the latches and looking down upon his prize.

Before him rest ten million dollars in cold hard cash, probably the most money he had ever seen outside of a bank in his entire life. It was a beautiful sight to the young man and he stopped to breathe in the sweet smell of freshly-printed dollars, truly an intoxicating fragrance. At last the money was his and he inspected the currency carefully to make sure it was real, remembering what Mr. Kelly had taught him about counterfeit money back in Vice City, how to pick out the marks confirming what was legit and what was fake. Running his eyes over the notes quickly he was able to confirm what he held was indeed real.

"So you weren't lying after all?" Jake thought to himself snapping the briefcase shut, "But if this is real money then I can only wonder where he got it from."

"Alright, I've got what I came for now if you'll excuse me, I will be on my way," Jake spoke backing up the aisle with the briefcase in his left hand and a Beretta in his right. "It was nice getting to know you Mr. Wesker, but I'm a man on the move and I have places to be."

"Not so fast Cavanaugh," Wesker spoke raising a hand to halt the criminal "you and I have additional business to discuss."

Jake stopped halfway up the aisle and stared deeply at the man furrowing his brow in disgust. "What the fuck does he want now?" he thought to himself ready to put a bullet in the man for wasting his time. Inner calm prevailed and for now he decided he would call the man's bluff. "Alright, go on!"

"Thank you Mr. Cavanaugh," Wesker cleared his throat and continued, "As I said before I found it a privilege to be able to view you in action back in Raccoon and I must say your skills are truly one of a kind. You are a man in great demand and your performance shows why and it is where I come with my proposition."

Wesker looked over to Mr. Burbank and the commandos with him, "Mr. Cavanaugh, we want you to work for us. We want you to become an official employee of our company: H.C.F., the Host Capture Force."

Jake couldn't believe it. First the smug bastard knowingly sends him on a suicide mission into a town overrun with the living dead and now he wants him to work for him just so he could probably be subjected to similar scenarios.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Jake replied in utter disdain, "You better give me a damn good reason why I should work for you after what you put me through. You knew what was going to happen didn't you?"

A look of annoyance crept onto Wesker's face as he replied, "Allow me to correct you on one thing Cavanaugh, you need to understand that the T-Virus outbreak was not planned. That was all Umbrella's doing. Those moronic stooges became greedy when they learned of Birkin's actions. They sent a team of trained killers after the man knowing such a situation would probably occur, it is them you should be yelling at, not me."

Taking a few steps towards Jake the former S.T.A.R.S. captain spoke again, "Now that we have that matter out of the way, back to business. Jake, if you were to work full-time for H.C.F. there would be many benefits you would be offered in exchange for your hard work.

"Being the generous people we are you would earn a hefty, steady salary based on your performance. Being a mercenary does bring its fruitful sums, but how often? You only work for sporadic periods of time and I imagine you do spend money on the every day necessities you do need: food, clothing, gas for your car, hygienic equipment, bills to pay for your hideout and what not, you would need a steady source of income to cover all of that, much like a regular person in the 9 to 5 world. How can you be certain half the people you've worked for in the past would even have the money to award you for a job well done? Being a man of my various resources, I could give you everything they couldn't.

"Not only would I be able to provide you much in the way of cold hard cash, I realize that you are a wanted fugitive and believe me there is much I can provide you in the way of protection and shelter. My company has contacts in law enforcement agencies all over the country and even the world; we can bribe whoever you want into leaving you alone. Hell, we could even have your criminal record erased and give you a clean slate and if anybody else decided to seek revenge against you, I could have that person dealt with at the snap of my fingers."

Jake had to admit that the man's offer was tempting, but he knew judging by the man's cocky behavior that he wasn't everything he said he was. The man was a snake in the grass who would probably have him eliminated the second he did something they didn't like.

"That's not all. Let's just say there are some fringe benefits you could be given. I understand you are a fan of high performance sports cars, how about an entire garage filled with them? Forget those shithole dives you are probably forced to hide out in, how about a nice beach house in the Pacific? Better yet, a nice mansion in the woods. Fancy clothes, a private jet, fine dining, kick ass vacations in the Alps, even finer wine and all the loose women you could handle, it could be all yours Jake," the operative smiled in a shark-like, predatory grin, "All you would have to do is sign on the dotted line and it could be all yours."

The career criminal stood silently listening to the man's proposal not buying into any of it. He did not trust Wesker one bit and was really itching to put a bullet in the man. Right now however was not a good time when in a room filled with gun-toting commandos, so he continued to play along.

"Alright, what's the catch?" he asked pretending to sound interested while at the same time keeping his gun ready.

"It's very simple," Wesker continued, "As you may know, we are involved in the middle of an aggressive corporate war with Umbrella, Inc., both from the office and the field. Every second that company is allowed to exist they become a greater threat to our survival and we are going to need all the help we can get in this long, drawn out war of attrition. Mr. Cavanaugh I cannot stress how vital your assistance would be in this war and with your experience gained in Raccoon City, I know you are the perfect candidate to help us do battle with their Bio-Organic Weapons. I am prepared to offer you a high-ranking position in H.C.F.'s Special Forces division and with you being a jack of all trades, I am willing to offer you any position you want, be it a marksman, demolitions specialist, pilot, hell I could even make you a squad leader with your own grunts to push around!"

"For real, huh?" Jake slightly nodded.

"Yes, for real," Wesker grinned, "Now what's it going to be Cavanaugh, are you with us or not?"

Jake stood tall staring at Wesker, who was probably shooting him a death glare from behind those mirrored shades. Burbank stood next to him staring uneasily at the career criminal like he expected the man to snap. The commandos stood with weapons ready, probably with orders to shoot him dead on sight if he refused.

"Guess I don't have much in the way of options," Jake spoke aloud wanting to toy with Wesker before making his next move. He had already made up his mind though; he could never work alongside a deceptive bastard like Wesker, especially after what he had put him through in Raccoon.

A petty corporate war was something he had no time for either, he was a criminal-for-hire, a mercenary, a wanderer. Unless his employer treated him with respect then he had no time to stick around and would move on to his next highest paying bidder.

Carl Johnson, Claude Speed and Tommy Vercetti were three totally different men involved in organized crime but they all had one thing in common, they all took damn good care of their employees and never stabbed anybody in the back, they were always the ones to be stabbed. Each of them took great care of Jake and treated him with the utmost respect as he served them and in turn, they were rewarded by enjoying long-term associations with the career criminal. Albert Wesker certainly did not fall under that category.

"I'm sorry, but my answer is no!" Jake spoke straight and to the point, "I have no time for some petty corporate war. Besides, Umbrella may be slimy bastards, but they have probably more assets and manpower than you could ever dream of. You're all probably some underground wannabe schmucks anyway. None of you would stand a snowball's chance in Hell against those clowns."

The words seemed to strike a nerve with Wesker, who bristled at the comment and clenched both fists. The words seemed to strike a nerve with the commandos present as well and the flicking of safeties resounded in the surrounding silence.

"I'm not going to repeat myself again Cavanaugh," Wesker half-growled unable to contain the budding anger within, "This is a once in a lifetime opportunity you've been offered. Don't make it hard on yourself and blow it. You will never have the same chance again."

"Pfft, with the kind of chances I had in Raccoon, I didn't think I'd make it half the time," Jake retorted unmoved by Wesker's threats, "With a backstabbing piece of shit like you, what makes you think my chances would be any better? I read about you stabbing S.T.A.R.S. in the back, how can I be certain you wouldn't up and pull the same shit on me?"

"Because I thought you weren't a schmuck like Redfield and the others, but I guess I was wrong," Wesker angrily seethed.

"I'm a mercenary, in and out the door, wham bam thank you ma'am. You obviously didn't take that into consideration when you looked me up," Jake smirked, knowing that he was getting inside the man's head.

Wesker was now visibly ticked off and looking like he wanted to lunge at him and try to rip out his throat, but suddenly the man stopped shaking and smiled, "And you obviously didn't take into consideration that I prepared for a scenario like this!"

Without a word, Mr. Burbank pulled a small black controller from his pocket and pushed a red button.

A second later, the briefcase bucked in Jake's grasp repeatedly as numerous muffled popping noises came from within. The career criminal momentarily took his gaze away from the former S.T.A.R.S. captain and snapped the briefcase open, only to find his ten million dollars covered in blue dye and now rendered worthless.

"Wesker you bastard-"

"Exploding dye packs Cavanaugh," Wesker chuckled, "I thought you'd be familiar with them from your days of robbing banks. Looks like that ten million dollars you fought so hard for is now nothing more than worthless scraps of paper!"

His lightning-quick reflexes snapping into play, Jake dropped the briefcase and withdrew his dual Berettas, firing them simultaneously.

The bullet from his right gun caught Burbank underneath his left eye, sending the portly man flying backwards and nearly knocking over one of the commandos. The other bullet caught Wesker right between the eyes, shattering his shades and knocking him onto his back with a sickening crack.

Before Jake could turn on his heel and run, the commandos on stage were already opening fire, their bullets eating away at the floor ahead of him and sending him sprinting out. The commandos on the balconies above opened fire, their bullets ripping through the seats around the criminal and forcing him to duck between shots. Their only concern now was to kill him where he stood.

"Not going to happen," Jake thought to himself, "I'll put a bullet in my own head before I allow any G.I. JOE wannabe to." The criminal continued his mad dash up the aisle and towards the double doors when they were suddenly ripped open from outside.

Two commandos appeared in the entranceway with M-4 assault rifles raised and were just inches away from squeezing the trigger. Jake again proved to be the quicker of the two raising his dual Berettas and firing several shots into both men, striking each of them several times in their covered chests before finding the shots which traveled through their masks and killed them.

Charging past the slumping commandos, Jake flung himself back into the hallway where he could immediately see several pairs of glowing red eyes in the distance. As he had suspected there were more troopers waiting to ambush him and he quickly pulled out one of his remaining grenades and chucked it in their direction.

"Oh shit! Grenade!" one of the troopers hollered.

"Fire in the hole!" another followed.

A loud explosion followed and rocked the building's foundation. Several cries of pain followed sounding like they came from three or four different individuals. The cocking of two or three rifles followed. Knowing he had not taken down all of them he broke into a sprint and rounded the corner before the gunfire could ring out.

The criminal rounded the corner only to be met by two more rifle-wielding commandos and quickly opened fire, aiming for their faces. Both men collapsed quickly and he ran past them towards the double doors leading out of the building.

Jake now pumped his arms and legs as quickly as he could racing down the hall towards the daylight seeping in through the tiny windows. He was getting closer and closer until another black-clad figure rolled into the hall from one of the side classrooms and raised its M-4. The career criminal was close enough and quickly tackled the man to the ground, gripping the sides of his helmeted head and snapping his neck.

"He went this way!" a robotic voice called out from around the corner followed by an entire army of footsteps.

"Shit!" Jake quietly cursed and grabbed the dead body around the torso, also stopping to pick up the dead man's assault rifle before he hauled him back into the classroom he had rolled out from.

Feeling the adrenaline still coursing through his system, the career criminal set the body against the wall next to him and shut the door as quietly as he could locking it behind him. Making sure the body was out of sight, Jake hid behind a bookcase with both handguns ready awaiting another possible ambush attempt. The pounding of boots was heard once again and suddenly halted outside classroom where he hid.

"Fuck!" Jake thought to himself as he could now feel the sweat dripping down his forehead. If those troopers decided to enter the room he would be screwed. He was getting dangerously low on ammo for both Berettas and even his powerful S&W. Trying to go at an unknown amount of heavily armed troopers with only his combat knife or sword would have been suicide, even for an expert like him after all the wear and tear he had gone through. One grenade remained, but he was in close quarters and would have risked taking himself out as well. It was risky, but either way he wasn't going to just back down like that.

Heavy breathing noises came from outside and swaths of light from nightlight attachments filtered in through the small window.

"See anything?" a voice called out.

"That's a negative. Tango has bugged out! Repeat, tango has bugged out!" another reported.

"Should we go dynamic? Breach, bang and clear?" a third asked.

"Negative," the first replied, "Remember the briefing. The guy's an ice cold killer who likes to hide in the shadows. He'll drop you without a second thought, haven't you read the reports about his exploits from the other cities? The guy's a fucking machine who's torn through an entire S.W.A.T. team."

"Fuck that," another shouted, "There's eight of us right now and only one of him. This guy's a chump and we're all trained killers. We draw him out, give him a full magazine to the face and then we call it a day."

"Heh, I couldn't agree more. Too bad Wesker doesn't think the same," the second man spoke again, "Should be him putting his ass on the line, he picked the psycho."

"Well all I know right now is its personal," a new voice entered, "That bastard has already killed three of my buddies. I'm gonna piss on his corpse after we kill him."

"Jackal Six, status report!" a new voice called over the radio.

"Jackal Six here, the sector is green. Repeat, the sector is green. Commencing full-scale search, over!"

"Roger that, acknowledged!"

"Come on boys, he couldn't have gotten far. The more we sit around and chit-chat, the more he has a chance of slipping away like the piece of shit he is."

Jake exhaled sharply breathing a little easier now that the troopers had decided to move on. He remained in position until he could hear the footsteps no more and with another deep breath bent down to search the dead commando.

Having already found an M-4 on the dead man, he placed the weapon on the floor next to him and began digging through the man's pockets. He pocketed four additional clips for the assault rifle and searched the trooper's belt to find a German-made Heckler & Koch Universal Self-Loading Pistol (USP) also known as a SOCOM and four clips for the bulky handgun. Before he would do anything with them, he decided to check over the bullets and found all of them to be armor piercing rounds.

"These spooks are carrying Cop Killers," Jake spoke aloud, referring to the armor piercing rounds by their street name. One bulletproof vest would not be enough against them and knew he would need some extra protection. Looking down to the dead man he noticed he had worn a Kevlar vest that looked much bulkier than his, pondering how much added protection it could offer.

"Sorry, but right now I need it more than you do," he spoke and carefully removed the vest from the dead commando's frozen form.

In addition to the pistol and ammunition, he also came up with four additional M-68 fragmentation grenades, two flashbang stun grenades and two CS teargas grenades. The latter types of grenades would work against human adversaries and he slipped them into his heavy side pack.

Before he could forget, he looked off to the man's side and found a side pack that had been slung around the man's shoulder. Inside were three remote-controlled satchel charges. What their purpose was he did not know, but the possibilities of what he could do with them were endless and in desperate need of all the ammo and explosives he could gather, Jake slung the pack underneath one of his shoulders. All the weapons and explosives he carried slightly weighted down on the career criminal, but he knew that they would eventually be needed in this desperate time.

He was ready to fight, he was now a literal one man army and he was prepared to stick it to his tormentors.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The once calm atmosphere of the auditorium disappeared the second Jake Cavanaugh gunned down Albert Wesker and Lyle Burbank and then made his hasty getaway.

Frantic radio chatter resounded throughout the large room as the commandos barked orders on and off into their headsets to the operatives who had embarked on a full-scale search for the fleeing criminal, determined to bring him back dead or alive at all costs. The sounds of weapons being cocked and loaded and supplies being loaded into crates and rucksacks also sounded indicating that everybody was preparing for a major assault.

Several of the troopers on the stage had gathered around the fallen forms of both supervisors, showing more interest towards the form of Wesker.

"So, do you think he's really dead?" one of the troopers asked looking anxiously towards his colleagues, a look of unease on his face beneath the mask.

"Do we even wanna know?" another asked.

A third commando said nothing and was prodding the fallen supervisor with his boot, "Feels pretty stiff if you ask me."

From out of nowhere, the seemingly deceased Albert Wesker's hand suddenly clamped down on the commando's foot.

"And if you don't stop prodding me with that goddamned boot, your bones will be broken if you ask me."

Taking a deep breath, the supervisor rose back into a sitting position and let some of the blood drip freely from his face before pulling out a handkerchief and wiping it all away. Once the blood had been cleaned away, the commandos watched in awe as bullet wound between the man's eyes seemingly mended itself and the spent casing went clattering to the floor below. Opening his eyes, a few rookie commandos were shocked to see a pair of red, slit reptilian eyes.

Wesker smirked when he noticed the look of fear in the rookie's eyes and reached into a pocket inside his vest removing a leather glasses case and pulling out an extra pair of black mirror-lens shades.

"Never leave home without an extra pair," the supervisor spoke rising back to his feet and dusting off his uniform. "That fool Cavanaugh thought he was through with me, any word if he has gotten very far?"

"My men are hunting him as I speak," reported one of the commandos.

The former S.T.A.R.S. captain tapped on his earpiece and spoke, "All available units, as of now shoot to kill orders are being issued for Jacob Cavanaugh. Repeat, I am issuing shoot to kill orders for Jacob Cavanaugh. Bring nothing back other than his rotting carcass."

Having issued his latest command, the H.C.F. supervisor then turned to where the broken form of Lyle Burbank lay, killed by a single shot beneath his left eye.

"What should we do with him, sir?" a commando standing near the departed supervisor's corpse asked.

Wesker said nothing and walked over to the dead man, patting his pockets before producing a brown leather pocketbook containing all of the man's notes and data along with a small portable computer. He then stood up and addressed the commando, "Get him to the crematorium. I will deal with the board in explaining his sudden loss."

The supervisor then turned to address the other commandos present, "The rest of you, get on the hunt immediately! I want Jake Cavanaugh's severed head brought to me at once!"

Saluting their superior the commandos immediately started for the exit.

"I knew he was unpredictable, but it was still worth the try," Wesker thought to himself, "Now the fool is going to get himself killed. Nobody crosses Albert Wesker and lives, nobody. Even if you do survive this day, I will have your head within due time, it will look nice on the wall next to Redfield and the others."

"Soon Cavanaugh, soon…"

A/N: There you have it folks, Jake's "mysterious benefactor" has finally been revealed! I see some of you managed to figure out it was Albert Wesker after all, but naturally I didn't say anything because I didn't want to ruin it for all of you, but you are indeed right I had Wesker planned out all along. All I have to say right now is be prepared for a fast paced, action packed chapter next time around. Read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	43. Chapter 38: One Man Army

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Author's Note: Once again I will be speeding up the pace for this next chapter since this one is going to be a more fast-paced, action-packed, in your face chapter with lots of running and shooting involved, definitely a step up compared to our favorite antihero battling the legions of the walking dead. The intention of this chapter is to have more of an arcade-style shooter feel (think Crisis Zone, Time Crisis or Operation Wolf), so I will be distancing myself from my usual style with this fic where I do all the in-depth descriptions and dialogue. I will admit that I am not very familiar with a lot of military combat procedures, weaponry, vehicles, etc., so if I screw up on some things in this chapter, my bad then. I mainly go by what I see in games and what I get from Resident Evil fansites describing the weapons and such. Just giving you the heads up before I get to work now on with the story!

Chapter 38: One Man Army

The air outside Springvale High School buzzed with activity as HCF reinforcements had arrived.

An incident had taken place where Wesker's "handyman" for the Birkin case, Jake Cavanaugh, had refused the man's generous offer to become a full-time employee for the company and had gone out with a bang, attacking Wesker himself and killing fellow mission supervisor Lyle Burbank. The criminal was wanted dead and the supervisor was determined to eliminate him at all costs, even if he had to bring in an entire army to do the job for him.

Several HCF ground units had been called away from their previously scheduled routines around the small city as did several of their air units. They had been briefed thoroughly on the career criminal and were not going to take any chances, bringing in all the big guns they had to offer.

The loud thumping of an Umbrella-owned Black Hawk helicopter filled the air above the deserted high school as it hovered over the mostly empty parking lot and within seconds twelve different ropes fell to the ground and twelve heavily-armed commandos descended. Behind them the roar of motors sounded and two black-painted, light-armored M1025 Scout Humvees made their way into the enclosed parking lot taking positions at each side of the front gates, each with a black-clad commando manning their .50 caliber rotary heavy machine gun turrets. Four men stepped out of each vehicle, each of them brandishing the standard M-4 assault rifle popular amongst HCF commandos.

Blocking the entrance to the parking lot was a black-painted M1126 Armored Personnel Carrier (APC). The hatch opened and twelve additional men piled out from the troop carrier, some brandishing M-4s, a few carrying variations of the MP5 submachine gun and a few carrying Benelli M1 Super 90 assault shotguns.

The contingent had the entire parking lot boxed in and they still weren't finished.

More commandos piled in from the side alleys, some of them wielding much heavier weaponry in the form of both Arwen, RGB6 and M-79 grenade launchers, M-249 Squad Automatic Weapon (SAW) heavy machine guns and even an M202A1 Anti-Armor rocket launcher. Two additional scout Humvees had pulled up behind the school followed by a powerful M1 Abrams battle tank and two additional personnel carriers showed up to block off both ends of the narrow street behind the school.

Two Apache attack helicopters flew overhead as did another Black Hawk, dropping off snipers on various rooftops surrounding the school. Each man carried different variations of rifle which they all trained on the front and rear entrances, anticipating their target would try to make a mad dash out either door.

Thanks to HCF's contacts in the U.S. government and with several foreign extremist groups, the company was able to afford plenty of heavy weaponry for its private security force and outside contractors, plentiful enough for them to start their own army and with it, if they chose their own small nation. They had also managed to bribe several top military trainers into teaching them the most difficult combat tactics practiced by the U.S. Armed Forces, rendering all of Umbrella's soldiers deadly on the same level as their government counterparts.

"All units in position?" a higher-ranking commando called out to the others around him, met by a series of "Rogers" and "Affirmatives."

"All shooters in position," a higher-ranking sniper called out from the rooftop of a nearby apartment complex, confirming that all of his men were in position with rifles trained on the school.

"That's an affirmative, he should be coming at any time," another spoke.

"Stack up now, let's give him a little welcoming committee," another ordered and several of the soldiers began scrambling towards the front entrance.

Six of the soldiers to arrive in the first APC took up positions surrounding the front entrance with three men on each side, two men with M-4s on point, the MP5 carriers in the middle and the shotgun men holding the rear flank. All of them looked to each other and nodded and then back to their waiting colleagues and nodded.

"Come on, let's bag this shithead," the lead man spoke and raised his rifle, ready to rip the front door open.

Before the lead trooper could even grip the door's handle, the set of double doors came flying open, nearly bashing the man in his masked face. All of them flew backwards as a laundry cart came toppling down the steps, nearly overturning several times before it finally touched the blacktop at the bottom.

"What the hell?" a commando positioned near a bike rack asked aloud as the cart came to a complete stop just inches away from him.

Raising a hand to motion for the others to maintain their positions, the man slowly approached with M-4 trained on the cart as if expecting a trap. He knew it was a risky move, but it had to be done. Inching further and further, he looked down to find a white sheet that appeared untouched. Hearing no ticking or burning fuses, he ripped the sheet away and leapt backward.

Nothing happened.

A wave of confusion fell over the commandos and they all looked towards the cart again. Once more motioning for the others to hold position, the trooper again slowly stepped towards the wheeled cart with gun trained until he finally saw the shape of a boot. Quietly cursing to himself, he stepped further until he was staring down upon the corpse of one of his own colleagues with a note attached to its chest.

_BOOM!_

Before the commando could utter a single word, he and the six other troopers were swallowed in a large explosion, knocking several others back as well.

"Shit! Everybody open fire now!" another trooper called out, but was already beaten out by several others firing their weapons into the building's façade, mostly aiming for windows hoping to catch their target through them.

In all the chaos that followed, many of the troopers were oblivious to a lone grenade that came flying out through one of the already shattered windows and landed near a parked pickup truck.

Another explosion filled the enclosed parking lot, this one creating a chain reaction as it swallowed several vehicles, including the motorcycle Jake arrived on and one of the Hummers.

"Deadeye Zero! Deadeye Zero! Do you copy? Come in at once! Do you see anything? That bastard is getting the jump on us down here!" a frantic radio transmission rang out.

"Deadeye Zero here," a sniper on a nearby office building's rooftop replied, "That's a negative, I can't see shit down there with all that smoke clouding my vision! You'll have to-"

A lone round flew through the air, traveling through Deadeye Zero's scope and straight between his eyes, killing him instantly.

Sheer pandemonium was occurring outside with panicked soldiers firing in all directions, exactly the way Jake Cavanaugh wanted it. He had gotten inside their heads and now the psychological advantage was on his side. Resting his elbows on a windowsill he kept his M-4 trained on multiple targets and squeezed the trigger. Three commandos thrashed violently as the armor-piercing rounds tore through their vests before they fell to the ground dead. Pausing briefly, he then fired a round through the masked face of a trooper who had stopped to check up on his fallen comrades.

By now the commandos were starting to take note of where the shots had come from and began firing in the criminal's direction, barely ducking just in time as a volley of rounds tore through the already shattered windows and pelted the walls of the small classroom.

"Looks like it's time for me to split," Jake spoke quietly crawling on his hands and knees towards the classroom's exit. The sound of gunfire became so intense he barely registered the footsteps pounding the floor outside.

A thunderous crack came from the front of the room as the door was nearly knocked from its hinges. "Eat this asshole!" another robotic voice called out and a lone grenade came rolling into the small room.

Spotting a large metal desk behind him, Jake quickly threw himself behind it and took cover as the explosive detonated, rocking the small room and sending the desk shuddering backwards.

"Take him down!" a voice called from the hall. With no time to reach for his M-4, the criminal quickly withdrew his dual Berettas and rolled over onto a knee. Peeking his head over the wooden top, he watched as a lone commando came charging into the room.

Uttering a war cry, Jake fired both guns madly into the charging man, knocking him back several paces before finally sending a round through his left eye. Another trooper stood in the doorway managing to get a few shots off before the criminal shot his weapon out of his hands, forcing him to retreat. Two more men tried to enter and were dealt with in similar fashion, one of them falling back with a bullet in his shoulder and the second dead from a bullet between the eyes.

"You're a dead man Cavanaugh; you'll never be able to take all of us down by yourself! Why don't you just come out right now so we can end this thing!" a commando called out from the hall, the same man he had shot the gun away from.

"Oh we're going to finish this alright!" Jake shouted back reclaiming his M-4. With a burst of energy, the career criminal flung himself back into the open hallway, time seemingly slowing down around him as he fired his gun in midair and managing to take down the two remaining troopers.

A gunshot rang out from behind and Jake grunted in pain as he could feel a bullet soar past him, slightly grazing the previous injury to his arm dealt by one of the Lickers. Turning around, the criminal found the trooper he had shot in the shoulder holding a SOCOM in his good hand. Raising his M-4 the criminal quickly reduced the man's head to a bloody pulp and splintered his helmet.

"He's over here!" another trooper called out followed by the footsteps of several men. Jake whirled around to be greeted by six more rifle-toting commandos and squeezed the trigger, managing to drop two and wound a third before his clip went dry.

Cursing silently to himself, he quickly leapt out of the way as the remaining troopers opened fire, forcing a janitor's closet open as the armor-piercing rounds tore through the nearest lockers. Quickly reloading his own rifle, Jake waited for the troopers to end their current barrage and then peeked out to fire back forcing them to retreat.

"We've got him pinned down, he's not going anywhere!" a trooper shouted into his headset before firing another salvo at the criminal.

"You forgot I had these," Jake said to himself unclipping another grenade from his belt and pulling the pin. Without looking he rolled the explosive into the hall, met by another string of curses from the surviving troopers before it detonated. The cries of dying men followed and with it, the criminal broke into a mad dash down the hall.

Jake raced down the hall listening intently for any movement around him with M-4 raised at waist level. He kept at his pace until he reached another corner and saw a set of double doors at the end which meant a possible escape. With the presence of all the troopers out front, it was certain these commandos would have the back exits covered as well. The thumping of helicopter blades sounded from above, showing they came with air support too. A lesser man would have given up right on the spot, but not Jake Cavanaugh, his back was against the wall with the odds stacked against him a million to one, exactly the way he liked it.

Thunderous cracks came from ahead as two classroom doors across from one another were broken down with two men rolling out of each room.

"Ha! No where to go now, eh Cavanaugh?" one of the troopers taunted training his M-4 on the criminal's face.

"Is that so?" Jake asked with a confident smirk while running towards the four men. The criminal performed a baseball slide along the floor as the bullets began flying, barely clipping the top of his head. Sliding forward his feet knocked one of the troopers from his feet and weapon from his hands. Kipping back up to his feet, he barely dodged a pistol whip directed at his face and grabbed the man in front of him, pinning an arm behind his back while pointing his rifle over the man's shoulder.

"Look who's talking now," he whispered to the now frightened commando. Jake smirked as he stared at the other commandos before him, who visibly shook at the sight of their colleague being held as a human shield before them. "You are going to shoot me now, aren't you?" he taunted before squeezing the trigger and dropping one of the commandos. On instinct the other now raised his firearm.

"No don't!" the man begged.

Gunfire rang out and his human shield was riddled with bullets, the man squirming violently as the bullets ripped his chest apart. Jake waited until the trooper was forced to reload and then flung his now deceased shield to the side, storming the remaining commando with a powerful football tackle and pinning him to the ground. A couple punches later the man was knocked into unconsciousness.

Footsteps sounded from behind again and the criminal remembered the trooper he had knocked from his feet. Leaping back into the air, Jake spun his body around to perform a leaping inside crescent kick which knocked his next opponent unconscious.

"Wonder who the hell recruited your sorry asses," Jake spoke and quickly searched both unconscious troopers, obtaining four additional clips for his M-4.

"I hear something from around that corner, let's move!" the robotic-sounding voice of another commando called out followed by more footsteps.

"Not today," Jake said to himself pulling a 180 and sprinting down the hall towards the back exit until a figure appeared in one of the windows, forcing him to dive into a shadowy alcove for cover.

The back doors came flying open and a commando armed with an M-249 S.A.W. appeared in the doorway flanked by two more soldiers armed with M-4s. "Come on out Cavanaugh, we haven't got all day!" the machine gunner taunted, unable to hide the bloodlust in his voice.

Another group rounded the corner to meet the three commandos when they stumbled across two of their own lying on the floor unconscious.

"Where did he go?" the machine gunner called out now noticing his two unconscious colleagues and walking to meet the other group.

"He couldn't have gotten far," another commando spoke and then tapped at his headset, "Fox Three reporting, target has evaded capture in sector five. Repeat, target has evaded capture in sector five."

Unknown to the pursuing commandos, the alcove Jake had taken cover in had an open vent large enough to fit a man of his muscular frame in and it was now that the career criminal crawled through on hands and knees looking for a secret escape from the school where he was now being hunted like a wild animal. The sounds of heavy exhaust indicated that he must have been close to another back entrance, but that something much larger than a semi truck would have been waiting for him, something like a tank.

Outside the rear entrance more ground troopers were gathered, supported by snipers from the surrounding rooftops, two mobilized infantry units, two armored personnel carriers, several heavy machine gun emplacements and an M1 Abrams battle tank. Apache and Black Hawk attack helicopters flew overhead every few minutes conducting searches for their elusive target. Several of their own had been eliminated so now they were going dynamic.

"Be on full alert, that son of a bitch has already eliminated more than 20 of our people. We give him a single inch and we're asking for trouble," a squad leader shouted over his radio, barely able to maintain his cool upon learning the elusive career criminal had already wasted several of his own like they were nothing.

"That Cavanaugh bastard has already wasted several good men today," a commando spoke to two of his comrades guarding an artillery emplacement, "You can bet the second he steps into my crosshairs he's going to be getting an entire clip where the sun doesn't shine."

"Well he didn't get his reputation by sitting around and being a pussy," another added, "The guy's a pure one-hundred percent stone cold killer. I wonder if Wesker even had any idea what he was getting himself into when he chose this clown."

"I don't know, but that sneaky cook is too far into this whole mess for us to just let him slip by unannounced like that," a third man added, "It's personal now."

The ventilation duct Jake Cavanaugh had passed through eventually led him to a secret maintenance passageway and he now made his way up a ladder and back to the surface, carefully looking around and listening for any approaching commandos before climbing to the surface and closing the hatch behind him as quietly as possible.

"Roger that, commencing full sweep pattern!" a static voice called out.

One of them was coming and Jake listened to the man's footfalls over gravel and broken glass. Taking cover behind a dumpster, he could only sense that one man was coming and withdrew his katana. Surely enough the footsteps drew closer as the criminal gripped the sword's pummel with a white knuckle grip. He waited a few more seconds until the commando came to a stop in front of him and scanned the area.

With lightning-quick movements, the young criminal leapt up and sliced the man's helmeted head from his shoulders, listening to the deep thud that followed as the man's body hit the ground. Once his latest kill had been completed he searched the body for more ammo and pocketed two additional clips for the M-4.

Knowing other troopers were certainly nearby, the criminal retreated back to his cover behind the dumpster. Remembering the silencer he had gotten back in Raccoon, Jake reached into his belt compartment and pulled it out, knowing he was going to have to get sneakier in order to kill without arousing suspicion.

Waiting for a few moments, Jake slowly rose back to his feet and crept down the narrow alley, occasionally stealing glances upward for helicopters on patrol. Coming to another corner, he peeked his head around to find another commando with his back to him. Raising the gun he fired a single shot into the back of the man's neck sending him face down to the ground. Another nearby soldier heard the trooper's body hitting the ground and came to investigate, but was met with a similar fate before he could call out for help.

"Heh, weekend warriors," the criminal scoffed reaching down and dragging the second man's corpse backward, "Probably wouldn't last a day in a real battle," he spoke hiding the body behind another dumpster. With the body out of plain sight, he pounded his fist on the metal surface hoping to attract attention.

The cocking of a rifle sounded, forcing the criminal to take cover behind a stack of wooden crates. Within seconds another rifle-toting trooper rounded the corner, "Who's there? Is that you asshole? Show yourself and we can make it quick!" The exasperated commando then began kicking over trashcans and small crates hoping to draw out his prey.

"This isn't funny asshole, we're going to find you and we're going to-"

The hapless commando never got the chance to finish his threat. Leaping out from his hiding spot, Jake quickly locked in a sleeper hold with one arm and then used his free hand to draw his knife across the man's throat.

"Damn, I'm getting tired of all this sneak attack shit," Jake said wiping the blood from his blade with a nearby cloth, "I need to get my blood pumping, I need some straightforward hardcore action and believe me, I'm itching to bust a few extra heads."

Rounding another corner as quietly as he could, the criminal found himself standing behind a fortified machine gun emplacement surrounded by sandbags and barbed wire. In the enclosed area were three more commandos who quickly jumped for their weapons once they spotted Jake, but he had been quicker raising his M-4 and firing a barrage of hot lead armor-piercing rounds that sent the troopers falling back dead before they hit the ground.

The rattle of gunfire caught the attention of the other commandos and they could now be heard making their way towards the fortification.

"Time for a surprise," Jake smirked and took to the controls of the mounted heavy machine gun.

"There he is!" a nameless commando called out and within seconds all troopers in sight were converging upon his position and opening fire.

Jake smiled slightly as the bullets dinged harmlessly off the shielding surrounding the gun's barrel and depressed the trigger, listening in satisfaction as the gun began its mechanical whirr, a prelude to disaster for his enemies. In one loud thunderous rattle the bullets began to spray out of the barrel and tore through the protective armor of several commandos who had been approaching him, literally sending them through a blender as the bullets tore ragged bits of flesh from their bodies beneath the armor they thought would protect them. Already nine men had fallen and more were soon to follow.

"I'm just getting started," Jake whispered under his breath as more commandos opened fire upon him. From behind his shield he was able to spot one of the enemy troopers scrambling towards the turret gun on the nearest APC and tore apart the man's backside as he ascended the lightly-armored vehicle. For extra measure, the criminal fired upon the mounted machine gun until it was rendered useless.

"Keep on bringing it, there's more where that came from," the criminal said quietly as he fired upon some commandos taking cover behind an abandoned Sentinel. The bullets ripped through the small luxury sedan's chassis until they reached its gas tank, creating a small explosion that killed three additional men and sent others flying around like human debris.

The explosion barely fazed the criminal and he continued firing away at all of his approaching attackers, striking down another man who had tried to fire upon him with an RGB6 revolving grenade launcher. Waving the barrel back and forth, four more men fell in a hail of gunfire, two more were severely injured and another small vehicle was blown up.

Unfortunately, all of the gathering smoke in the air was making it harder to see and flashes of light were coming from all directions and the loud pinging noises were making it harder to hear what else was going on around him. In a sense the career criminal's counter-offensive had also made him a sitting duck, meaning more commandos could sneak in around him. The prospect of this had the young man waving the machine gun back and forth until he was greeted by a sound that could mean the difference between life and death in the heat of battle.

CLICK!

The heavy machinegun was out of ammo and the bullets were still pinging away at the shield and sandbags before him. Times were getting desperate and the criminal buried himself behind the wall of sandbags and pulled out his rifle once again, making sure the gun was fully loaded and in good working order before plotting his next course of action.

"My back is against the wall, but I'm not out of the game yet," Jake smiled to himself, "These punks have never seen me in action before. They have no idea what I'm capable of."

A clunk broke the criminal out of his thoughts and he looked down to find a fragmentation grenade having landed on the ground next to him. Figuring they wouldn't expect it, Jake quickly snatched the grenade up and flung it back over the wall of sandbags, resulting in another boom following by more dying groans.

"Time to rock n' roll!"

Knowing he was heavily at risk, but having no other choice, Jake leapt up to his feet and flung himself over the side of the bags unguarded by razor wire, still feeling the streams of hot air behind him as he barely dodged the armor-piercing rounds. Raising his rifle he fired blindly into the smoke-filled air barely able to pick out any targets. He kept moving though knowing he would be dead if he stood still for even a second. Able to make out the APC in the artificial mist, he quickly took cover behind the vehicle and loaded a fresh clip into his rifle.

"Did you see where he went?" a voice called out from behind.

"He went this way!"

"That's my cue to beat it," Jake muttered and quickly ran into the nearest alleyway, bathed in the shadows of larger surrounding buildings. Burying himself into the darkest corner he watched as the nameless commandos searched the area he had previously occupied and a leader barking out orders to his men. Splitting up into different directions, the commandos began a new search of the area and he kept quiet as one of them moved into the alley where he hid.

The commando moved silently down the alley, only the faint sounds of his breathing heard as he waved the rifle back and forth, his own cool nature preventing him from calling out to his elusive target and spraying the alley with lead to make his point. His prey was nearby, he could smell him.

Jake stood quietly in the shadows as the commando stood just mere inches away from him looking towards the end of the darkened alley unaware that his target stood next to him. Tip-toeing with inhuman stealth behind the man, he reached for the katana strapped to his back and waited until he came to a complete stop.

Only the scrape of metal against metal could be heard as the criminal removed the sword from his scabbard. Before the commando could react, his head was removed from his shoulders.

"One down and who knows how many more to go," Jake muttered as he rounded a corner and came to the back door of a small restaurant. Inside the signs of another massacre were evident as everything in the front room had been torn apart by high-powered gunfire. Much like the streets outside, the room was covered in dried blood, but there were no bodies in sight. A glint of light shone in through one of the cracked windows, flashing off the surface of a bloody kitchen knife, undoubtedly left behind by a citizen who had probably been among the dead.

The loud rumbling of a tank's engine sounded from outside and shook the small building's foundation as it passed by, but then seemed to stop outside the building's front entrance. It had come to a complete stop and the static of radios followed. Knowing trouble would soon follow, Jake made for higher ground, running up a nearby flight of steps and then throwing himself to the ground and crawling towards a window, knowing more snipers were probably nearby.

Creeping along the rickety floor he slowly moved towards the closest window and looked down to the street below to see the M1 Abrams battle tank parked outside the restaurant flanked by several armed troopers. A small entry force had been assembled and at the moment they were breaking into a sporting goods store across the street, deploying flashbang grenades before storming in with guns drawn, searching for him. Once they had found nothing, they would return to the street and move to the next building over.

The idling tank sat in the middle of the street with its hatch popped open, the driver standing tall and the two gunners waving their guns back and forth ready for the first sign of movement.

"I'm going to have to take out that tank if I want to move around quicker on the streets," Jake thought to himself spotting another door which led up to the building's rooftop. Crawling hurriedly along the floor he broke into a sprint as he opened the door and flew up the steps, quickly taking cover behind an air conditioning unit he listened for the helicopters in the air and then looked down to the street below.

The tank remained in position, standing guard as the breach team now prepared to enter a pawn shop. Its hatch remained open and the criminal observed the driver silently as he now spoke into a radio. Unclipping another grenade from his belt, Jake lined up his sights on the opened hatch and steadied his grip before pulling the pin and dropping the grenade.

Throwing himself back into his hiding place, he listened to yet another earth-shattering boom as the grenade detonated inside the opened tank and smiled to himself. Panicked voices followed from below and several of the men began firing their rifles thinking the attacker was nearby.

"There he is! We've got you in our sights now Cavanaugh!" a voice called out through a loudspeaker from above.

Looking above, the career criminal spotted an AH-64D Longbow Apache attack helicopter zeroing in on his location and prepping its mounted machineguns to fire.

"Crap!" Jake blurted out looking around frantically for a possible escape and then noticed a narrow wooden plank connecting the small restaurant to the nearby post office.

Breaking into another mad dash, the career criminal raced across the rooftop as the high-powered bullets began tearing away at the concrete surface behind him and ripping shreds from the bottom of his trench coat. Reaching the rickety slab of timber, he was forced to leap over to the next rooftop as it was reduced to splinters by a barrage of high-velocity rounds.

A sudden hiss made his blood pump faster. Jake didn't need to turn around to know that a Hellfire missile was being fired in his direction and he had to be out of its blast range or risk being incinerated alive. Looking forward again, he saw that he was just inches away from the rooftop's end with no exit in sight. Hoping for any kind of miracle, he could only leap from the building as the missile struck the surface behind him, obliterating the small post office in one large ball of flame.

Launched forward by the blast, the career criminal flew until he struck a hard jagged surface, nearly dislocating his shoulder.

"Damn…" Jake grunted feeling the back of his head and the fresh scratches now dotted across his face. He opened his eyes to see he had landed in the back of a parked dump truck that had been hauling gravel. "Still a rough landing," he sighed forcing himself back into a sitting position.

"Going somewhere?" a voice called out. Several commandos were rushing in his direction ready to finish the job their comrade had failed.

"No, but you are," Jake whispered back and fired back at his attackers before flinging himself from the truck and taking cover. Carefully maneuvering himself to the edge, he poked his gun out and fired another burst, forcing his adversaries to take cover.

With another leap into the air, the criminal rolled for cover behind a concrete stoop and knelt quietly as the bullets bounced off the hard surface, raining pebbles and dust upon him. Taking another peek up, he spotted another approaching commando carrying a high-powered M-134 Vulcan mini-gun similar to the kind Kevin had used to help fell the Tyrant-002 back at the Umbrella facility. Only the scream of rapid fire filled the air as the commando fired an entire barrage into the stoop Jake hid behind, its rounds chipping away hard enough to make the man flinch, but not hard enough to cut through to him.

Taking one of many deep breaths, the criminal popped up and fired the remaining rounds from his clip into the attacking troopers, managing to take down the machine gunner and another grunt until his clip ran dry and he was forced down after taking two shots to the chest.

Jake fell back to the ground grunting in pain, his face contorting into a mask of agony as he felt the soreness move down his chest. Gritting his teeth he breathed in and out heavily trying to regain the wind knocked from him. Wearing the additional Kevlar vest had stopped the armor-piercing round, saving his life but also pounding him really hard, he would certainly have major bruises once he removed the vest.

Not even bothering to utter an obscenity, the criminal was all business as he loaded a fresh clip into his rifle and rose back to his feet, firing like a man possessed until every remaining commando lay dead before him.

The enemies were still coming and Jake ran down the street firing away at his attackers gunning for him from all sides, managing to drop an extra few along the way before taking cover behind another dumpster. Before he could even get an extra breath in, the criminal winced as he felt a red light shine into his right eye and he quickly fired upward, taking out a sniper in the building across from him.

Popping up from behind the dumpster, the criminal gunned down a trooper firing at him from behind a wrecked delivery van and managed to wound another, sending him writhing on the ground in pain and trying pathetically to crawl away from the fight. Another three-round burst from his rifle sent a sniper on the boutique rooftop ahead of him falling to his death, splattering in front of another trooper who soon fell before the young man's relentless offensive. Bullets continued to fly at an aggressive pace as Jake fought back and forth with his tireless pursuers with neither side showing signs of giving up anytime soon.

A familiar thumping sounded from above as the criminal managed to shoot the rifle from one of his enemy's hands, one that once again had him on the run. The same Apache from earlier was now back with a vengeance and opened fire once the target was in its crosshairs, sending Jake running down another street as ground forces continued firing upon him.

Skidding to a halt as he rounded a corner, the career criminal came across another wrecked police barricade situated in a circle and climbed onto the roof of an abandoned squad car, leaping from car to car until he reached the other side.

"Face it Cavanaugh, you can't run, you can't hide, you can't win!" the pilot's taunting voice called out through the chopper's loud speaker, followed by the loud hiss of another missile being launched in his direction.

Acting out of desperation as he had throughout the entire battle, Jake threw himself through another plate glass window as the missile struck outside, sending a cloud of smoke through the new opening.

"Son of a…" Jake grunted before breaking into a coughing fit and lowering his head to avoid the smoke in the air above. Despite the smoke filling most of the air, the rows lined with DVD's, video games and CD's and a row of TV sets behind him indicated that he had now entered an electronics store. Knowing there were probably more of Wesker's goons nearby, he kept his head low and crouch-walked through the store moving back and forth between the rows of DVDs and movies until the front door was smashed in and a flashbang grenade was tossed into the store. The criminal quickly covered his ears and closed his eyes and then picked his rifle back up once the explosive detonated.

"He's in here! Let's get him!" a commando cried and another small group of goons filtered into the small shop.

Ready for another gunfight, Jake popped up from behind a shelf and began firing at the entering troopers, killing the first two through the door. The others were faster and took cover behind shelves, the front counter and several tables holding displays. Bullets flew wildly through the air, shattering windows, destroying the new television sets lining the walls, wrecking computers and laptops on display, knocking over whole displays and shelves filled with video games, movies and CDs, knocking over a tower of boxes containing the new GameStation console, shooting out lights overhead, wrecking the cash register and taking out the security cameras in the display room. To say the room was left a complete mess is an understatement.

By the end of the battle all of the enemy troopers lay dead in various positions of twisted agony, torn apart by the armor-piercing rounds and the criminal reloaded his rifle. "What a joke," he remarked stepping out the backdoor and into another alley that took him into a warehouse.

Searching carefully around the depot, Jake had finally found a building devoid of any threats and he would soon find out why. Stacked upon each other were rows of steel drums filled with oil, a single open flame would probably have taken out the entire place along with half the block. This gave the criminal an idea and he listened for the sounds of vehicle movement and approaching soldiers.

Placing his ear to the door, Jake listened for what sounded like another APC approaching and kicked the door open, firing a barrage at the approaching vehicle. His rounds struck nowhere near to slow the vehicle, but that was not his intention. The front hatch slowly lowered and twelve commandos emerged from the transporter.

"He's in there, don't let him get away!"

"Eagle Two, come in! We have visual on the target! Repeat, we have visual! He has been seen entering the Taxago Fuel Depot, requesting air support immediately! This guy is a dangerous one and we're not taking any chances with him!"

"Roger that, Eagle Two en route!" one of the Apache pilots replied and steered his course towards the aforementioned fuel depot.

One by one the twelve black-clad HCF commandos filed into the fuel storage warehouse with weapons ready, communicating through hand gestures and switching off their flashlight attachments, favoring red dot Laser Aiming Modules (LAM) they hoped would give them a stealthier approach. The masked men moved as quietly as they could, searching every corner and a few made their way to the upper catwalk to search the offices.

A lone trooper moved quietly around a corner using the search tactics he had been taught in basic training. His heart raced knowing what he was going up against, but he tried to keep a cool head as he prepared to make another turn.

From out of nowhere, an electronic beep sounded, causing him to jump. Spinning around ready to open fire, he stopped as he found a small satchel resting atop an oil drum behind him. The beeping was coming from the small bag and he knew it could only mean one thing…

KA-BOOM!

The fuel depot disappeared in a massive ball of reddish-orange and golden flames, its range taking out a majority of the block it was positioned on and its force knocking an Apache helicopter backwards, sending it spinning backwards onto another street packed with HCF vehicles, another chain reaction of explosions following.

Jake stood concealed in the shadows, pleased with his work. He would kill every last single one of these slimebags if they were going to stand between him and his freedom, knowing they would hunt him from every corner if he didn't act.

Sneaking through the back alleys the criminal moved on, largely managing to avoid contact with the enemy troopers, those unfortunate enough to cross his path either dying by silenced pistol, his blade or his own bare hands. The stealthy movement continued until he came to another apartment complex near a canal when the sound of another Hummer approaching could be heard.

Taking a position behind a shot up van, Jake watched quietly with gun ready as the black-painted Hummer made its way into view, moving slowly past another car wreck with a soldier manning the vehicle's gun turret. The vehicle temporarily came to a stop and then started up again. When it started to pick up speed, the criminal leapt out from his hiding spot and opened fire.

Blood splattered all over the front windows, indicating he had hit the driver and his front passenger. Loud popping noises indicated the tires had been hit and the vehicle began spinning out of control. The turret gunner spotted Jake and tried to open fire, but the vehicle's spasmodic movement prevented him from getting a decent shot in and his bullets completely missed the target. Connecting with a small crater in the sidewalk, the vehicle finally overturned and was sent crashing into the van the career criminal once hid behind. Overturning, the Hummer skidded to a halt and killed the man in the turret. However, two passengers in the back still survived and didn't let a recent wreck stop them from firing upon their elusive target.

"You're going to have to work for your kill," Jake muttered turning around and charging into the derelict apartment complex.

Rushing into the trashed interior he immediately made his way towards a door labeled "STAIRS" and quickly pumped his way up eight flights of stairs until finally reaching the rooftop. Winded from the long sprint, he fought to keep himself upright knowing those two troopers were probably hot on his tail.

"Thought you were rid of us?" a taunting voice called out over a loudspeaker. From behind, the Apache attack chopper that had stalked him before rose again. "You're not through with us until we say you are!"

Jake growled in reply and fired upon the chopper, punching some holes into its side, but not doing enough to damage the craft. The pilot responded by firing a barrage at the criminal, forcing him to take cover behind an air conditioning unit. Rolling around frantically, the criminal fought to stay ahead of the endless barrage being fired upon him, threatening to rip him into shreds. Popping out from behind the stairway entrance, the criminal fired until his latest clip emptied.

"There's no hiding from us Cavanaugh!" the pilot called out again as he swung the chopper around and attempted to fire upon his target again.

"Okay, I'm really wishing you would just shut the fuck up," Jake thought to himself firing another volley into the craft above, striking a few more times, but nothing of vital importance. The chopper fired again forcing him to run around the rooftop as its rounds ripped through the air conditioning units, satellite dishes and filter units. An exchange of gunfire continued between both sides for several minutes until the door leading to the rooftop smashed open.

Taken by surprise, the criminal barely had time to react as the small canister rolled towards his feet. Expecting an explosion to follow, only a hissing sound was heard as a cloud of gas blew into his face.

"Ahhhh!" the career criminal screamed wildly in pain as CS teargas was sprayed in his face, burning his eyes and throat upon contact. A weakness had finally been exploited and for the first time he truly was vulnerable. Blinded by the teargas, Jake was left to thrash wildly fighting the urge to rub his burning eyes knowing he would only make things worse. The pain was still unbearable and he could barely breathe as the gas ate away at the insides of his throat. Acting on instinct he waved his M-4 blindly through the air.

"Let's get him!" a robotic voice shouted from beneath him.

Jake could only listen for the sound of the man's voice and pointed his rifle in the direction he thought it came from, but the thumping blades above made it hard to concentrate.

"Die!" the voice called out again.

Roaring in pain and frustration, Jake fired wildly towards the sound of the voice. The burning pain weakened his grip and he found himself knocked backwards by the recoil and he soon felt the gun firing upwards bucking in his grip, followed by the shattering of glass.

Unknown to Jake, he had eliminated the two ground troopers pursuing him and had fired upward, his armor-piercing bullets ripping through the windows and straight through the pilot's chest.

With its pilot dead, the Apache began to spin out of control and eventually crashed head-on into the apartment complex, sending Jake Cavanaugh flying backwards into the river below.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Albert Wesker could only look on in keen interest from behind his mirrored shades as he rode in the backseat of the M1025 Scout Humvee, en route to the site of the latest helicopter wreck. Beside him sat Commander Karkian, saying nothing throughout the entire ride. The man's heavy breathing indicated that he was in a deep concentration, brought upon by his determination to hunt down and kill Jake Cavanaugh.

"Managing to take down both Eagle units? I would say we've got quite the resourceful one on our hands," the advisor spoke in his typical cool, smug tone, receiving no reply from either the Commander or the two lesser grunts up front.

Everybody else remained in deep concentration knowing who they were going up against. Unlike Wesker, they were all regular mortals who could still be killed easily by the cunning career criminal. The advisor almost wanted to feel pity for his subordinates, but knew overall that they were nothing more than expendable assets who could be replaced easily, no sense in becoming attached to them.

A slight smile crept onto Wesker's features as he set back. The supervisor had known something like this would probably happen and had full confidence that if none of his men could get the job done, then he would certainly do it himself. Jake Cavanaugh too was still a pitiful mortal, a mere insect compared to him.

"Yes, nothing but an insect," the supervisor thought to himself. He was a god among the insects. The T-Virus ran through his system, saving him from near death and in the process it had also enhanced all of his physical attributes to superhuman levels.

Although in superb physical condition before the transfusion, the former S.T.A.R.S. captain could now lift anywhere from 500-800 pounds without breaking a sweat, literally move faster than a speeding bullet, could leap tall buildings in a single bound and possessed regenerative capabilities that enabled him to withstand gunfire, explosions and blade wounds, and could even regenerate lost limbs like a reptilian. His senses had also been enhanced and he could see much farther without the aid of a scope and in total darkness, hear much farther than a mortal and could smell anything in the air. The most glorious features though were that he was now free of disease and his aging process had been significantly retarded, meaning he would still be young and powerful while his adversaries aged around him.

"And soon you will be broken by my awesome might," Wesker thought as he stared ahead at the apartment complex, its entire rooftop destroyed by the massive explosion generated from the wrecked helicopter.

By now several additional units were on the scene and one of the Black Hawk choppers was flying overhead.

"Skyhawk Two reporting here," a voice called out over the Hummer's built-in radio.

The driver reached over and grabbed the transceiver, "Skyhawk Two, this is Landstalker Six what do you have to report?"

"The target has been swept away," Skyhawk Two's pilot reported, "We were en route to provide cover for Eagle One when we saw it crash into the Longview Apartments complex. A figure fell from the roof and we were close enough to positively identify it as Cavanaugh. He has fallen into the Glory River."

"So has he?" Wesker thought, his head perking up at the mention of Cavanaugh's name.

The Scout came to a stop outside the Longview Apartments where several more Hummers and carriers were set up. Wesker, Karkian and the two grunts exited the vehicle while their gunner remained behind. Commandos were moving about making their way through the alleys behind the complex. Both the supervisor and Commander made their way over to a trooper barking orders to three lesser grunts. The soldier took notice of their presence and turned around to salute them.

"The target has gone missing, sir!" the trooper barked, but was halted by Wesker raising his hand.

"We have been told. I want a full search of the river; bring me whatever you can find, I don't care if it's his whole body or just his head!" The commando saluted again and went about his way.

"You're not going to give up on me that easily, are you Cavanaugh?" Wesker thought as he stared up towards the building's burning rooftop. It would take more than an explosion and a fall into a river to kill the ever resilient Jake Cavanaugh, which he knew for sure.

"Yes Cavanaugh, you need to stay alive so I can personally break you in half."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Taking a deep breath, Jake coughed and gagged as he emerged from the water. A lack of coordination plus all of the water weighing him down brought him to his knees and he crawled from the river on all fours, coughing and gagging the whole way.

"Ugh…shit…" the criminal grunted, spitting out some water and now rubbing his sore throat. Feeling some of the water still on his face, he rubbed it into his eyes and let it soak in before trying to blink his eyes open. "Damn those fuckers," he choked still feeling some of the mace in his throat. Slowly blinking his eyes open, he still felt a stinging sensation as his vision blurred and gradually shifted back into focus. The young man's skin now burned as the mace drained from his eyes and rolled down his face. Grabbing handfuls of water, he splashed it against his face to soothe the burning.

"I've gotta get the fuck out of here," Jake told himself slowly rising back to his feet and then checking over the M-4 to make sure it was still working. Miraculously it was and he would still be able to shoot his way out of the overrun town if need be.

Able to breathe a little easier, his senses were quickly overcome by a stench he thought he had escaped from along with Raccoon City: the stench of decay.

"What the…" Jake whirled around to find himself standing in front of a metal fence with a line of barbed wire running along the top. Not too far away from him, a section of the fence had been ripped away and a small hole was found in the chain-link fence behind the metal wall. The crackling of flames sounded from beyond the fence, stirring the criminal's curiosity. "Time to find out what this is all about."

Crouching down the criminal slipped his way through the small hole and found himself in a junkyard hidden behind a stack of wrecked cars. In front of him stood a lone HCF commando staring at something he could not see. Quietly removing his sword and moving as quietly as possible, Jake crept up behind the commando and with a wave of his sword, sliced the man's head clean off. It was after he took his latest life that he finally saw what the commando was looking at.

Before him stood a large hill that was literally made up of dead bodies, their flesh rotting in the midday sun. People of both genders and all ages, sizes and ethnicities laid atop one another, killed in various ways and positioned in countless poses depicting painful agony.

"So that's what happened to all of the bodies," Jake said quietly to himself as he crept forth and took cover behind an overturned school bus. Moving farther into the junkyard he spotted more small hills made up entirely of corpses and at the center of the junkyard was one large bonfire, where more HCF commandos were present tossing dead bodies into the large fire. "Looks like they've turned this place into a makeshift crematorium," he thought moving behind one of the hills of death.

Despite the revolting sight that stood before him, he couldn't help but take notice of some of the corpses that lay before him.

In one pile lay the remains of a teenaged boy with spiked up bright red hair that had probably been dyed recently. He had been killed by a bullet between the eyes, his pale skin and milked over eyes revealing he had been turned into one of the living dead before being put out of his misery forever. What stood out the most to Jake was a t-shirt he wore, one which advertised the heavy metal band Last Man Standing and their latest album "Silent Echoes."

"At least the kid had good taste in music," Jake remarked with a half-smile. The criminal himself was a huge fan of heavy metal music and Last Man Standing had been one of the most recent bands to come out that immediately captured his attention. He had already seen them live in concert three times and was captivated by the sheer passion they put into their performances. When this mess was over with, he was hopeful he would be able to see them live in concert once again.

(A/N: Just a note that "Last Man Standing" makes reference to a heavy metal band featured in the fanfic of the same title by Escape the Shadows. I want to give a special thanks to Shadows for allowing me to use the reference to LMS in this fic and "Silent Echoes" is a reference to the C.D. they are touring in support of in the story. I highly recommend that you check his story out as well.)

Situated near the fallen teen was an older middle-aged man with short black hair that had been graying at the temples. He wore a dark navy blue cargo vest, dark green cargo pants and a white t-shirt underneath with a patch revealing him as a member of the Eagle Point S.T.A.R.S. unit.

"S.T.A.R.S., here in Springvale," Jake asked aloud as he looked to the fallen man, whose nametag read "Kenner." A series of ragged holes in the man's chest revealed that he had been shot to death with armor-piercing rounds, no doubt at the hands of Wesker's goons.

Not much farther away was the corpse of an African-American male in a S.T.A.R.S. uniform consisting of a forest green combat vest, tan cargo pants, black combat boots and a knife holster wrapped around his shoulder. This man's nametag read "Chapel" and two-thirds of his head had been obliterated by a point-blank shotgun blast. A large bite mark on the man's upper right arm showed he had been bitten, perhaps killed while in the process of turning.

Also in the pile was another man wearing the denim vest that had been the trademark of the Road Demons biker gang Ace had belonged to. This man had been a tall, powerfully-built warrior much like Ace and Snake and had a thin, well-groomed mustache and long brown hair covered by a black bandanna with a picture of a skull with blood red eyes in front of two crossed broadswords and a plume of red and yellow flames. His stenciled in name revealed him as "Fixer" and a large gash in his stomach leaked out his intestines, revealing the gruesome fate that had befallen him.

"Man, you guys are all over the place," Jake said taking note of meeting Ace and Rock at the R.P.D. and then discovering Snake's corpse lying at the side of the road before grabbing the motorcycle.

The criminal continued to move along the mountains of dead bodies until he got closer to the makeshift crematorium and took cover behind a dump truck that had no doubt transported the bodies to the junkyard.

"Damn, I tell you I sure as hell didn't sign up for this shit," complained one of the troopers as he went to heft up the corpse of a dead woman, "I'm a mercenary, not an undertaker."

"Yeah, what's up with this?" replied another, "We should be out there kicking some ass like we joined up to. Why don't we just get the hell out of here and nuke this damn place? If the Feds say anything, we tell them it was a nuclear reactor exploding."

"Well if you two don't stop standing around like a couple of whiny bitches, then we'll never be able to get out of here," a third commando cut in, lifting up the corpse of a zombified child to toss into the flames.

"Still, this isn't what we signed up for," the first trooper continued, "We came here to contain this damn outbreak so we should be out of here already. Let the virologists come in and do the dirty work. They're the ones who want to examine the corpses and take the tissue samples. It should be them disposing of all these bodies, not us."

"You dumbass, part of containing this outbreak is disposing of the bodies!" the third commando shouted back, "Our virology department would take too long to get here. If we keep these things out in the open, then who knows if crows or dogs or some other wild animal would come in here, take a bite out of one of the corpses and then become infected? Better to be safe than sorry," the third shouted picking up a severed arm and tossing it into the flames.

"Haven't we gotten any samples prepared yet?" asked the second commando.

"We do, they're in cold storage as we speak."

"So what happens to this place once we get everything cleaned up?" the second asked again, "Once we get all the bodies taken care of, there will still be a ghost town left behind. Going to be a lot of fun trying to explain that to the authorities," he said dragging a dead overweight man by his legs over to the fire.

"From what I've heard around, Raccoon City was scheduled to be nuked at the crack of dawn," the third spoke up again, knowing more than the two others, "That was six hours ago, so by now Raccoon City should be wiped off the face of the planet. Two nuclear explosions in one day would look too suspicious to the press, so they'll probably say something like a massive surge in the city's power grid blew the city sky high. It's either that or maybe a massive coal fire; this town was built over an old coalmine you know."

(A/N: Yes yet another author's note from yours truly, I know the idea of a massive coal fire would probably seem unreal to some, but I get this idea from "Silent Hill" the movie. In the movie, the town has been long abandoned due to coal fires beneath the town's surface, so I'm just borrowing a possible idea since two nuclear explosions in one day would draw a lot of suspicions from the press.)

"Raccoon City has been nuked from the face of the earth?" Jake asked himself quietly, almost in disbelief at the news. A nuclear explosion was too much even for him, especially one performed on American soil of all places. "Now I really know Umbrella has gone too far, but these clowns aren't much better." At the moment he could only praise himself for rejecting Wesker's demented offer.

"So when are we supposed to be getting some help around here for this crap?" the first commando asked, "We've been here for hours. Fourteen men alone cannot handle the thousands of bodies we still have to incinerate."

"Everybody else has their hands tied;" the third shot back, "Apparently that errand boy Wesker hired went rogue on us and started killing a bunch of our boys. Last I heard, they're still hunting him. I've gotta give it to that guy, he sure is one crafty little shit, but he can't run from us forever."

"We should be out there hunting his ass down too," the second spoke up, "I wonder if Wesker would give a bonus to the one who shoots him dead. Maybe I could go out and buy myself a new car then."

"Yeah, it should be all of us out there hunting him as a unified group."

"Not going to happen," Jake thought raising his rifle. Firing a single round, he took out the lead commando. Before the two others could make a play for their weapons, he dropped both of them in concentrated bursts of gunfire.

More voices could be heard in the distance and Jake waited until they got closer before pulling out another grenade. Until they were inches away from the main bonfire, he pulled the pin and rolled it in the direction they came. The commandos took notice of the criminal and were about to raise their rifles when they suddenly recognized the grenade on the ground. Following a great explosion, all five men lay dead on the ground.

The hiss of hydraulics sounded from behind, giving the criminal no time relax as he turned around to see a large bulldozer charging in his direction piloted by an HCF commando, grinding any corpses that lay in its way to bloody bits. Two more commandos followed behind, firing their rifles in Jake's direction as they moved closer.

Standing tall but short on time, the criminal pulled out another hand grenade and chucked it in the direction of the oncoming bulldozer, forcing the driver to jump out. The explosive detonated and the heavy machinery was overturned, falling into a pile of corpses and crushing several of them to leave another bloody mess behind.

Taking advantage of the distraction he created, Jake opened fire and quickly dropped two of the commandos. The last one was a little tougher and managed to roll around some of the criminal's shots, causing him to run of ammo. Rising back to his feet the enemy trooper returned fire, his bullets only hitting dead bodies as Jake rolled out of the way. Pulling out the SOCOM with its armor-piercing rounds, the criminal leapt back out into the open and fired into the man's padded knees, the bullets piercing the armor and shattering both kneecaps. The wounded trooper could only lie on the ground screaming in pain, either dying from infection or blood loss.

From what he overheard, only three troopers should remain now and he readied his M-4 once again stalking quietly around the piles hill-sized piles of corpses until he found another one of the troopers and fired a barrage into the man's chest, knocking him backwards into the very pile of corpses he had been there to incinerate.

"Shit, there he is!" another called out and the two remaining commandos appeared, chucking fragmentation grenades in his direction.

Jake pulled another 180 and raced around a pile of decaying corpses as the explosives went off behind him, racing down a path only to be met by another commando wielding a flamethrower.

"As if my day couldn't get any better," Jake sarcastically quipped.

Depressing his trigger, a loud whoosh followed as the commando shot a ray of fire in the criminal's direction. Jake leapt to the side to avoid the blast, the flames igniting a nearby pile of corpses behind him. The flamethrower-wielding madman slowly stalked after the fleeing criminal, moving the incendiary weapon back and forth setting more dead bodies around him ablaze.

Jake raced down the open trail with everything going up in smoke behind him, running for his life until he came face to face with another one of the troopers. Taking the man by surprise, he leapt around the man and then spun him around, grabbing him by the shoulders and falling backwards with him. Quickly grabbing the commando's rifle, he launched him into the air with his foot and fired a volley of hot lead into the man's gut. "Hope you like yours sunny side up, bitch!"

The other commando soon appeared firing away at Jake, only to be met with a hail to the chest and stomach, still staggering towards his target as he fell to his knees and then slumped over dead.

A loud hiss sounded from behind and the criminal barely managed to dodge another ray of fire being shot in his direction. Rolling over to a knee, he spotted the tank attached to the man's back and rolled out of the way again to dodge another burst of flame.

"I've gotta get that pack," he thought to himself loading yet another clip into his rifle. He was starting to get dangerously low on ammo for his M-4 and would soon be down to his sidearm guns. Leaping out of the way of another blast he ran for cover behind a foreman's trailer and waited for the man to approach.

"Alright, you're all alone and you're mine now," Jake thought hiding at the other end of the trailer and listening for the flamethrower commando's footsteps. Screwing the silencer onto the SOCOM, he crept up behind the man from a safe distance and fired a single shot, a ping followed by a loud explosion and within seconds, the commando was engulfed by the flames of his own weapon.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Jake looked around the junkyard where several piles of human corpses were now set ablaze. The criminal almost felt a pang of pity for those who had perished in this similar incident, but yet he knew that he had eliminated the scumbags who were probably responsible for this mess, ones operating outside of Umbrella.

Another hiss of static broke the criminal from his thoughts, one coming from a radio on one of the commandos he had just eliminated.

"Blaze Five, come in! This is Unit Commander Karkian; Cavanaugh has been sighted heading in your general direction. Repeat, Cavanaugh has been sighted heading in your general direction! He is armed and extremely dangerous; you are to shoot him upon sight. He must not be allowed to leave this city alive. Do you copy?"

The voice on the other end belonged to the man who had been ordering all of these commandos after him, one who had been making his life harder than it needed to be. He was so going to give this man a piece of his mind and picked up the radio.

"So you're the shithead who's been following me around?" Jake spoke nonchalantly into the radio, really wanting to piss this guy off.

"Cavanaugh!" the Commander roared from the other end, "You bastard, what the hell have you done to Blaze Five?"

"Blaze Five couldn't make it; he's a little "hot under the collar" right now if you know what I mean," Jake spoke looking down to the dead commandos lying around him.

"You're going to pay for this you murdering bastard," Karkian spat, "when we're through with you, you're going to be history!"

"Is that so?" Jake asked, "Well I just figured I'd piss you off a little before I become history!" He then tossed the radio to the ground, smashing it into tiny pieces.

"If I die today Karkian, then you can sure as hell bet I'm bringing you, Wesker and all these other clowns down with me," Jake said aloud walking through the gates of the junkyard, where two previously manned Scout Humvees had been parked. Aiming his rifle at the tires of both vehicles, he shot two of the tires out on each vehicle, that way his enemies wouldn't be able to entertain any thoughts of following him.

Looking around and seeing a bunch of warehouses and factories he was now in the industrial part of the small city, but the plumes of smoke in the distance indicated he wasn't far from the sites of his previous battles and would need to escape somewhere fast.

To his right was the entrance to the city's subway station, but strangely it was left unguarded. It had to be a trap and Jake raised his rifle searching around for any snipers he knew could be lurking in the distance and then listened for anybody coming up the stairs. He heard nothing and saw nothing, something very weird to him.

"Might be my only way out, but whatever it is I'm ready for it," Jake said to himself as he ran down the stairs and into an unknown fate.

Minutes later, the very M1025 Scout carrying Wesker and Commander Karkian pulled up to the blazing junkyard, followed by a convoy of the remaining Scout Humvees and personnel carriers.

Commander Karkian stepped out from the back of the Scout and walked over to the gates of the blazing junkyard. Observing the aftermath of their target's latest assault, a look of rage and frustration crossed the battle-hardened commander's features beneath his gasmask.

"That bastard…" the commander grunted, thinking of all his men who had perished by the criminal's hand. Turning his gaze towards the subway station, he could only think of one way the scumbag had possibly escaped.

"Secure the subway station immediately!" he barked, "I want the power cut and all of the trains disabled at once! That bastard Cavanaugh isn't going to escape from this town, especially after what he's done to your fellow troops!" the commander added making reference to those who had died before the criminal's hand, knowing it would fire up his troops and motivate them to bring in the convict at all costs.

Wesker stepped out from the Humvee and watched with a confident smirk as the Commander ordered his troopers into the subway station.

"Those fools, they'll never get the job done," the former S.T.A.R.S. captain thought to himself, "He's leading them into his natural element, they will be sitting ducks. He may have once been worth something, but I will admit that it is still fascinating seeing him in action, watching as the pawns fall before his awesome might."

Pausing from his train of thought, Wesker looked down to his clenched fists, "Might will only take you so far Cavanaugh, not as far as you think. You're still a mortal Cavanaugh, still a pitiful mortal…"

A/N: Now that I have completed this fast-paced chapter, I might slow things down a bit for the next chapter. Once again, I want to give a special thanks to Escape the Shadows for allowing me to borrow the "Last Man Standing" reference for my fic and I highly recommend you check his out as well. This next chapter will largely be inspired by the "Wrong Side of the Tracks" mission from Manhunt, meaning it won't be as much in your face. It will probably be back to the more psychological tone I use in previous chapters with a mixture of the manic pace from this chapter as well. Until then, read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	44. Chapter 39: Alone in the Dark

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Chapter 39: Alone in the Dark

"These will suit me perfectly," Jake said looking down to the pair of thermal-imaging goggles he now held in his right hand. The career criminal had run into the city's subway system hoping to lose his attackers in the darkness of the tunnels and perhaps find a train to the nearest town, these goggles would help him perfectly as his tasks would involve a lot of hiding in the darkness.

Hearing the sound of liquid draining behind him, the criminal turned to face the remnants of his latest victim, an H.C.F. commando who had been on the toilet when he fell to a hail of gunfire. It was from this unfortunate soul Jake had acquired his goggles as well as two additional clips for his M-4. Blood drained from the man's wounds and flowed into a nearby drain, a ghastly sight to say the least.

Jake gave the dead man one final glimpse and sniffed the air, "Hmm, I don't know whether you stink worse alive or dead," he casually remarked exiting the men's restroom.

Returning to the empty subway lobby, the criminal was met by the corpses of three commandos who had been standing guard before he tore his way through each of them. He knew those pursuing him were nearby and had to get out before they could arrive.

A decommissioned train in need of extensive repairs was the only train in sight and would've been completely worthless in this kind of situation. It was risky, but he would probably have to escape on foot.

On the wall near him was a conveniently placed map of the network of tunnels that made up the Springvale subway system, a crucial element to ensure his escape. Snatching the map from the wall, Jake leapt down onto the train tracks and began running through the dimly-lit tunnels as fast as he could, knowing it could probably take him hours to escape.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"That bastard's been through here alright!" a trooper called out from the lobby below.

Albert Wesker knew right away what the nameless commando had discovered judging by the tone in his voice. "I would have expected no less from you Cavanaugh," he thought to himself cynically descending the stairs followed by another group of commandos with Commander Karkian at his side.

"Cavanaugh…" the Commander rasped evilly from behind his gasmask. The battle-hardened veteran was hungry for blood after watching several of his men perish by the hand of the career criminal and he personally wanted to carry out the criminal's execution.

"Never losing your focus on an objective, that's always been one of your most endearing qualities to me Gabriel," Wesker spoke to the determined commander, addressing him by his first name, himself being one of the few people who held that privilege.

"Don't patronize me Albert," Karkian shot back, "You've seen what that "pet project" of yours has done to my men, who are your men as well. I knew Jake Cavanaugh was a stone cold killer and you should have too, you should have known that it wouldn't be wise to tempt a man as dangerous as him and now look what you've gone and gotten yourself into…" the commander spoke as he descended the stairs next to the supervisor.

"Ten million dollars wasted, one of our company's top executives dead, several elite commandos killed by that lunatic…," the veteran growling as he uttered that phrase, "…another town in ruins and a possible public relations catastrophe that will ruin your precious company!"

Wesker said nothing as he walked alongside the man, but knew he might have been making some valid points in the long run.

"Hell, if you ask me, I'd say you knew something like this was going to happen," Karkian said looking over to his superior, a sharp glare crossing the features beneath his mask and a vicious snarl rising in his voice.

A strong hand gripped the commander's shoulder and squeezed down tightly through his protective shoulder pad, "I've known you for years Karkian and have known you to be a valuable, trusted ally who always did as you were told with no questions and executed all of your missions with the utmost efficiency. Would it be necessary for you to suddenly change the course right now? You and I have a common adversary right now and if you want his blood so badly, then it would be in your best interest to cooperate with me right now."

The supervisor's iron grip clamped down onto Karkian's shoulder like a python smothering its prey, but the hard-boiled commander had endured far worse pain in the past so it was almost nothing to him and he clenched his teeth without making a sound. Even though the man was his supervisor and had overseen several of his past missions, there were still plenty of times where he developed the urge to just shoot the man dead where he stood.

"But then he'd probably just rise back up and snap my neck like a twig anyway," Karkian thought to himself as he and Wesker reached the subway station, where they were immediately greeted by the sight of three of their own men lying shot to death and being stripped of their ammo by their surviving teammates.

Just as the two superiors made their way into the station, two additional commandos emerged from the men's restroom, "We found Bartleby in there too, the bastard shot him on the can," one of the men reported, "About as cold-hearted as you can get."

"Keep your cool," Wesker simply spoke to Karkian as he stood next to the commander and made his way towards a nearby control room.

"Easy for you to say," the Commander muttered, knowing he would kill Wesker right now if given the chance. Despite working together, their relationship at times could be best described as a "love/hate" one.

Gabriel Karkian was a career soldier who served his country with distinction in the steamy jungles of Vietnam and had the medals and scars to attest to his heroism. In spite of great deeds during his service, when he came home he was not given the same kind of hero's welcome his father before him had received when he returned home from fighting in the Pacific Theater during World War II, but was rather met by the hostility and catcalls of fellow countrymen opposed to his presence in Vietnam, labeling him a "cold-blooded murderer" and "rapist" when he was neither.

The enmity he had received upon his return home had severely warped the then young man's views of his government and country as a whole, stunting the patriotism of a man who had earned several awards for his patriotic essays written in his youth and had once considered the defining moment of his existence when he met then President John F. Kennedy, truly believing his government could do no wrong. Fighting for Uncle Sam was no more; he was now all about fighting for himself and his own ideals.

Upon his return, many businesses refused to hire him because of his status as a veteran of an unpopular war and he was constantly derided by the citizens of his hometown while walking the streets. The few jobs he did manage to get he would only be at for short periods of time as co-workers would try to start trouble with him, often ending in fights that would see him thrown in jail.

Finally, a few years after returning home from the war things seemed to look up for the former Green Beret when he had acquired a job with a distant cousin's construction firm and was set to marry a girl he knew from his high school years. Celebrating his impending engagement, he decided to spend the night partying at a nearby bar.

While at the bar, members of the notorious Hell's Angels motorcycle gang were present and picked a fight with the mentally scarred veteran. Experiencing flashbacks of a particularly frightening event while fighting in Vietnam, one of which several of his closest friends from the Berets fell dead around him caused the former soldier to snap and pull out a knife. By the end of the melee, six bikers had fallen dead by Gabriel Karkian's hand and the ex-soldier found himself sentenced to numerous life terms for the murders.

Destined to rot away in a decrepit cell for the rest of his life, Gabriel had all but given up hope until a mysterious gentleman in a suit showed up to meet with him. The man had been from a newly-founded organization known as HCF and had learned of the ex-soldier's exploits during his service and wanted the man to work for his organization in exchange for having his criminal record expunged.

It had been a shady offer at first, but Karkian accepted and in the end it proved to be a worthwhile move. Utilizing the skills he was taught in basic training combined with what he was taught at the HCF training facilities, he quickly ascended the ranks throughout the years and just four years ago was finally promoted to the rank of Field Commander.

Over the years, Commander Karkian had seen many soldiers come and go, many of whom were exiles from foreign countries and condemned criminals who had joined up in hopes of having their records expunged, much like he had years earlier. They were men of varied ethnicities and backgrounds, but nevertheless, they were his men.

Despite working for a sleaze like Albert Wesker, the commander was a true leader through and through who cared about his men as if they were his own family and it genuinely saddened him when one of his men fell while under his watch.

Today, many of his men had fallen before the notorious career criminal named Jake Cavanaugh, a man whom Karkian had heard much about through the headlines reporting his various offenses. Indeed the commander himself had killed many people throughout his life, but he was a soldier: disciplined and honorable, acting under orders. Jake Cavanaugh was the total opposite. The young man was a low-life criminal: brash, undisciplined and lacking the dignity of a true warrior, acting only for himself and himself alone. He was a menace who had to be dealt with.

Commander Karkian entered the control room Wesker had entered and found the man studying the overhead security monitors, searching wherever he could for the elusive criminal.

"Ha! Found him!" the supervisor called out pointing to one of the monitors, Karkian and others gathering around him. Directing their attention to a black and white monitor, Jake Cavanaugh was shown running down one of the tunnels as quickly as he could.

"He's on the Beta line leading in the direction of Maple," Wesker said typing a few commands in, "if we get moving now we can catch him."

"Are you sure we'd stand a snowball's chance in Hell this time around?" Commander Karkian asked, cautious after having seen the criminal in action and also wanting to annoy Wesker for his arrogant behavior from earlier.

Indeed the supervisor was slightly taken aback by his subordinate's surge of bravado, but quickly composed himself. "You needn't worry Commander; he will be alone in the dark and ours to deal with."

Walking over to a panel of switches, Wesker pulled down every single lever and within seconds the control room, lobby and tunnels were shrouded in total darkness.

"Any questions?" the supervisor called out. Met with silence he replied with a "Let's move!"

The commandos switched on the thermal-imaging goggles built into their helmets while Wesker relied upon advanced sight allowing him to see in the dark, resuming their collective hunt.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Running down the dimly-lit subway tunnel as fast as his body could take him, Jake continued his attempted escape. Feeling winded and panting loudly, but knowing that he had to keep moving, he continued moving with the silenced SOCOM in hand.

When he last checked the map, he was moving on the Beta Line that would lead to the nearby community of Maple. Moving by foot, the trip would roughly take a few hours, but according to the map there was another station up ahead where he could hopefully find a workable train and then make a break for it. Where he would go after Maple was unknown, but right now all he was concerned about was a warm meal, some clean clothes and possibly a few hours of rest.

"I know they're probably not too far away, but if those spooks do entertain any thoughts of following me, then they're just digging their own graves," Jake thought to himself as his footfalls striking the gravel echoed throughout the tunnel. Fatigue was setting in and he could feel the sweat pouring down his face, but once again it was the sheer force of willpower that kept him moving forth.

Racing down the tunnel, the career criminal was surrounded by the monotonous grays and blacks of the tunnel, hoping to catch sight of any additional stations. "Sure could go for a piss and a drink right now," he thought.

As he ran further down the tunnel, a series of clicks were heard from behind and Jake looked over his shoulder to see the overhead lights switching off behind him and moving in succession until the entire tunnel was bathed in total darkness.

"I knew these would eventually come in handy," Jake whispered aloud placing the pair of thermal-imaging goggles over his eyes and switching them on. The area surrounding him became multiple shades of red and black and looking down to his own hands, they became this weird shade of glowing white.

"Keep it sharp men!" the robotic voice of a trooper called out in the distance.

"That's my cue," Jake whispered again and resumed his sprint down the darkened tunnel.

Having regained some of his stamina, the criminal could feel his speed slowly building up again as he continued a seemingly endless race down the tunnel moving about until he heard more footsteps and radio chatter before him.

"Shh! Hold up, I thought I heard something!" one of the voices called out and a swath of light began shining in Jake's direction.

"Shit!" the criminal muttered flinging himself into a nearby alcove, just as the light shone across the wall where he had previously stood.

"Well I swear I just heard something in front of us," a trooper called out.

"Keep a healthy distance, he could jump out at us any second," another spoke.

"That's gotta be him! We have to have killed everything else in here, so no doubt that was him making those noises!"

"Take your time 7, he's not getting out of Springvale alive, doesn't mean he should be bringing you down with him," the second trooper spoke to the third.

"Well after what he did up top you can bet I'm sure itching to take his head!"

Jake stood silently in the alcove halting his breath into slow, controlled rasps, hoping to stay as quiet as possible in case the troopers carried hearing devices. The SOCOM was gripped tightly with finger on the trigger, ready to fire when need be.

"Okay, we're not seeing anything right now, I say it's time we go thermal," the leader spoke.

"Fuck!" Jake knew what they meant by "going thermal." They were about to activate their own thermal-imaging goggles, meaning they would pick him out in an instant and he would certainly be screwed.

"Time to go dynamic," he thought to himself, raising his gun and ready to take another major risk.

"What the-" a commando called out, only to be silenced by two shots to the face.

Jake leapt out into the open and began firing upon the commandos, diving back and forth, constantly moving like he was in a mosh pit to avoid their lethal rounds.

"We've got visual!" one of the commandos screamed into his mouthpiece while firing madly at his target.

Jake squeezed off an entire clip at his attackers, the frantic pace of gunfire combined with the constant movements of his aggressors causing him to miss all of his shots. They had retreated into nearby alcoves and were ducking out every few seconds to fire a barrage in his direction.

Slamming the SOCOM back into his holster, the career criminal again withdrew the powerful M-4 and waited for the commandos to stop firing before he popped out with his own barrage. The sounds of pained cursing resounded through the tunnel indicating he had hit one of the commandos and the others fired more wildly hoping to avenge their fallen comrade.

The cry of "Die!" sounded from numerous bodies as the commandos fired upon their elusive target. They finally had him cornered and had no intentions of letting him go free. He had murdered several of their colleagues in cold blood and they were dying to exact payback upon the bane of their existence.

"Your luck's ran out Cavanaugh! You might as well turn the gun on yourself while you have the chance 'cause we're gonna come back there and skin your punk ass alive!" a commando called out temporarily halting his gunfire and keeping his sights trained on the alcove where his target hid.

Training his gun on the darkened ground, Jake fired at an angle to make his bullets ricochet, one round catching the man threatening him in the stomach and another taking out a third man's knee. With his remaining enemies distracted, he leapt out again and gunned down the survivors.

In the aftermath of the skirmish, five men lay dead with three others wounded. The trooper who had taken the round to the stomach was passed out from the pain while the other two were still writhing in pain, screaming loudly and of no remaining threat to him.

Jake quickly reloaded both guns and passed the trooper he had nailed in the knee when the man suddenly called out to him.

"You might have won this time, but your luck is running out Cavanaugh!" the commando shouted in pain, "You're not going to make it out of here alive you bastard!"

Coming to a halt, Jake stood silent for a few moments and then slowly turned to face his antagonist. "You know, you sure talk big for a dead man."

The criminal then raised his SOCOM and fired a single round into the commando's forehead.

Heat signals appearing on his screen indicated that more enemy units were on the way and he withdrew his M-4 and continued on with his escape.

Additional commandos arrived minutes later to find the shot up remnants of their colleagues.

"H…help…me…" the commando who had been wounded in the shoulder called out weakly to his colleagues, "…he was through here…stop that bastard…"

"We've got another live one over here," another trooper called out to his superior, kneeling towards the unconscious commando.

The squad leader nodded in acknowledgment and tapped the earpiece inside his helmet, "This is Nighthawk Leader, we've got six casualties and two live ones down here! Requesting med evac for wounded! Repeat, requesting med evac for wounded!"

"Acknowledged, med evac units en route," an operative spoke from the other end.

"Alright, I want you three to stand guard over the wounded," the Nighthawk leader spoke to three operatives standing around each of their wounded colleagues, "The rest of you, follow me! We've got a dragon to slay!" The commandos nodded and began jogging behind their leader as they made their way down the tunnel.

Jake continued his charge until he came to a junction where two tunnels branched off in opposite directions, bringing him to a considerable halt.

"Shit…" he muttered quietly reaching into his pocket for the map. Quickly stealing glances while listening for the sounds of footsteps and looking around for any approaching commandos, he eventually picked out the correct route.

"Alright, the right tunnel I have to take," he thought to himself shoving the map back into his pocket. A second later he was forced to duck as several red beams shone in his direction, trained on his head.

Barely dodging a torrent of bullets fired in his direction, Jake fired in the direction of the gunfire and scrambled back to his feet running down the right tunnel.

"There he is! We have made contact!" a voice called out in the darkness and resumed firing in the criminal's direction.

"Damn, I'd use my grenades on these freaks, but then I'd risk bringing this whole place down," Jake thought to himself lowering his head to avoid bullets flying above him. They were hot on his trail and had thermal vision as well, meaning his chances of eluding them were next to none.

A loud clatter came from in front of him and a single commando dropped to the ground with the grace of a cat. Jake didn't give the man a chance to fire as he snatched the man's left arm and yanked him down, performing a spinning roundhouse kick to the back of the man's head and knocking him out cold. Stealing the man's M-4 he now had two rifles and spun around firing wildly. Screams of agony followed as the soldiers were cut down one by one until they screamed no more. By then the additional M-4 had run dry and Jake simply tossed it aside resuming his journey.

"Wait a minute, there should be a maintenance hatch somewhere up front not far from here," Jake thought to himself as he carefully scanned the walls beside him looking for anything out of the ordinary.

"There!" he loudly whispered to himself. Along the wall to his right he found a steel door with black and yellow painted lines labeled "MAINTENANCE ACCESS ONLY" and quickly ripped the door open, only to be met by another gun pointed in his face.

Leaping into the air, Jake performed a vertical snap kick that sent the man flying backwards into a janitorial cart. Another commando rounded the corner and was met by a barrage from the criminal's M-4.

"He's here!" a voice called out from the adjoining room.

"Damn right I am," Jake smirked as he waited for the approaching menaces.

Two more commandos rounded the corner upon seeing their dead comrade and fell in similar fashion thanks to the criminal's assault rifle.

A small circular object flew around the corner and rolled to the criminal's feet. Reacting instinctively, Jake shut his eyes before the flash bang could detonate. The loud boom temporarily zapped his hearing and rattled his nerves, but at least his vision remained intact and he was able to pick out the additional commandos rounding the corner after him and let loose another volley.

Only one trooper remained, one Jake had managed to scare out of his mind. Charging at the hapless chap, the career criminal grabbed the man in a Muay Thai-style clench and kneed him in the stomach a few times before bringing his elbow down onto the man's upper back and then grabbing his neck, snapping it after a brief struggle.

In the adjoining control room, several tense commandos stood in wait with weapons raised as they listened to the gunfire outside, hoping their boys were winning the ensuing battle at hand.

"Jeez, what the hell's taking them so long to waste one puny punk ass?" asked a trooper near the door.

"Don't you know who the fuck we're dealing with?" another shouted towards him, "This is Jake "Freaking" Cavanaugh, a schmuck who's already murdered countless numbers of our men! You can't just go kamikaze on the guy, you've gotta take your time with the scumbag!"

"We've taken enough time already!" a trooper next to the main control panel called out.

The door from the side maintenance tunnel suddenly swung open and the commandos jumped ready to fire, but breathed a collective sigh of relief upon seeing it was only one of their own, perhaps emerging victorious from the battle with their elusive adversary.

"Report at once, did you get him?" a trooper guarding the control panel called out.

The commando stood there saying nothing, taking up so much space the others barely noticed the gun popping up from behind his shoulder. With a squeeze of the trigger, a commando fell over dead followed closely by another.

"It's a fucking ambush! Get him!"

All of the commandos opened fire, riddling the body full of bullets until it crumpled sideways in a torn, bloody heap. Peeking in from the doorway, Jake opened fire upon the commandos, popping in and out every few seconds to fire upon his adversaries as they reloaded their weapons.

As the images of battle raged through Jake's mind, so did the thought of how much more he would have to go to for his freedom. He had been fighting on and off for nearly an entire week now with little or no rest and felt like he was about ready to fall over from exhaustion on more than one occasion. Having escaped from the necropolis of Raccoon City he had literally wandered into another war zone where his adversaries were now human beings capable of thought and logic, capable of working together to bring him down and using deadly firearms.

The more he thought about it, the more he almost missed battling the stupid, decay zombies. Hell, he was almost up for trying his chances with a battalion of Hunters all over again.

"You are outnumbered and outgunned! You're finished!" the taunting voice of a commando called out, sounding as cold and emotionless like the other robotic voices.

"Legions of the undead couldn't break me and neither will you nor your worthless lackeys!" Jake shouted back letting them know that he wasn't afraid of them. "I survived an eight foot tall behemoth with a rocket launcher and a huge blob that was supposed to be invincible, what makes him think I'm going to be afraid of some loser with an M-4?" he thought confidently to himself.

Popping back in and firing another barrage, he took down another commando and came close to downing another. The rapid movement made things difficult for the criminal to pick out how many troopers he had gunning for him in the small control room. Not knowing his exact number of opponents would also make ammo conservation difficult as he once again found himself getting dangerously low for his M-4 ammo.

Sticking his muzzle back in, he fired another salvo managing to take down two more enemies. The rifle clicking empty, he reached into his coat and produced the S&W revolver, making sure it was in fine working order before readying the powerful gun. Stepping back in he fired three rounds into the darkness and managed to drop two more commandos. Taking another deep breath as some rounds struck the wall across from him, he stuck his gun back in and fired the three remaining rounds, taking down yet another commando and destroying another's rifle. Judging by the screams he heard, there was only one enemy trooper left and he decided to make his move.

Surely enough, a lone commando stood among the dead bodies tossing his ruined M-4 to the floor and attempting to draw his SOCOM as he spotted the career criminal. Jake saw the man and leapt towards him, tackling him to the ground and giving him a blow to the head powerful enough to render the man unconscious.

Making sure he was alone in the room, Jake locked the door behind him and then confiscated the unconscious trooper's remaining ammunition. With that taken care of, he then approached the nearby control console.

"Alright, I should have it…and there!" he said to himself typing in the commands to restore the station's power. Within seconds the entire room was bathed in bright light, allowing him to remove his thermal imaging goggles. The humming of nearby machinery and the clicking of lights outside soon followed. "Now they know I've been here. I really have to move now."

There was another door that led to yet another lobby where more heavily-armed commandos had congregated, standing guard over another exit and a nearby train that could very well be his ticket to freedom.

With a mighty leap the criminal rolled behind a row of benches and fired another burst before taking cover behind a pillar.

"We understand hiding has always been in the nature of a yellowbellied coward like you, but this is getting ridiculous!" a commando taunted before firing another barrage at Jake.

"I've gotta get the fuck out of here before their reinforcements arrive," Jake told himself and looked over to see another row of benches in between two large concrete planters. Peeking out and firing wildly at his enemies, the criminal took cover behind one of the planters and popped up briefly to fire another wild barrage.

It was practically a Wild Western-style shootout with neither side showing any signs of giving up as the commandos fired away relentlessly at the lone criminal. Jake stood pinned down, but determined as it was him against seven men, who were nothing compared to the countless other troopers he had encountered during his stay in Springvale.

Launching himself up again, the career criminal fired and took down a trooper positioned near the train, sending the man flying back hard enough to shatter one of the windows. Peeking around the planter, he fired at a commando standing at the ledge of the platform, knocking him back onto the tracks behind him.

Out of the criminal's sight, the unit's leader quietly motioned to his four remaining squad mates through hand signals to storm their target's location on the count of three. The men quietly nodded back and counting down from three; the leader motioned with his thumb to charge. Breaking into a mad dash, the five soldiers ran towards their target, the soft padding in their boots making their footsteps barely audible.

Jake knelt against the planter ready to make his next move when he noticed the commandos weren't firing and could only hear the footsteps when they were almost on top of him.

"Gotcha' now pisshead!" a commando shouted thrusting a rifle barrel into the career criminal's face.

"End of the road you son of a bitch!" another said kicking his M-4 from his hands. The cocking of rifles followed, he had to think fast.

Propping onto his left foot, Jake pivoted in a full circle with his right leg extended, executing a spinning sweep kick that knocked each man from his feet. Kipping back up to his feet the criminal withdrew his sword and after a series of powerful slashes, each commando lay dead in a bloody mess.

Returning his attention to the train and with nothing standing in his way, Jake ran over and pulled open one of the sets of doors making his way inside. Ignoring the suitcases, duffel bags, discarded newspapers and other objects littering the floor, he quickly ran towards the front of the train and passed through seven cars before finally reaching the front cabin. Using a nearby iron pipe he barricaded himself in and quickly started over the controls.

"Okay, gotta remember what Uncle Pete used to do," Jake whispered to himself, remembering how he used to go for rides on trains with his maternal Uncle Pete, who was an engineer with the local railway near his hometown of Somerset and had even let him take the reigns on certain occasions. That had been years ago when he was a small child, but he was confident he could get this train moving.

"Hmmm, doesn't look too different from the controls on Umbrella's train," he thought to himself flipping a couple switches and then pulling on a lever, much in the same fashion he did when trying to escape from the Umbrella facility. He continued tinkering with the controls until he was greeted by the hiss of hydraulics and began to feel movement.

The rattle of gunfire then rang out.

Reinforcements had arrived and they were firing upon the train, perhaps as a shock and awe tactic. Hearing the gunfire, the criminal attempted to speed the train up and withdrew his S&W as a precaution.

Members of the Nighthawk platoon had spotted the train taking off and immediately made a play for it, a few of them getting close enough to throw themselves through the opened doors Jake had entered through. A few had pulled out their climbing spikes and began latching themselves to the sides of the train, slowly climbing to the roof and crawling along towards the front where the engineer's cabin was located.

Jake hugged one of the walls to avoid being spotted as he heard the shattering of glass and heard some incomprehensible radio chatter from the car behind him. He stood tight until he heard the door shaking as one of the commandos struggled with the iron pipe. Stepping into the entrance he raised his S&W and fired a round through the glass into the commando's masked face, obliterating two thirds of his skull.

"He's in here!" another trooper called out rushing through the door. The career criminal dealt with him similarly, firing two shots into the man's body before he crumpled over dead. Switching back to his M-4, Jake fired upon the other commandos attempting to enter the car behind him, managing to take down several of them before they retreated into the next car.

"Fuck!" Jake blurted out as bullets began raining down from above him, tearing through the metal roofing above him. The enemy was now on top of him and firing blindly through the rooftop hoping to strike their prey. Bullets ripped through and ricocheted around the control room, leaving the career criminal bobbing and weaving through the confined area. Glass shattered around him and sparks flew as the control panels were struck. Raising his own rifle, the criminal opened fire and was rewarded with the dying grunt of a commando followed by the thump of a body hitting the roof before rolling off to the side.

More gunshots rang out from above creating a large hole in the roof above and a set of booted feet began kicking away at the hole until it was large enough for a regular-sized person to enter through and a lone commando dropped into the cabin.

"Got you locked down punk!" the trooper shouted as he attempted to whip Jake with the butt of his rifle.

The career criminal bent backwards to avoid the attack and then brought his forearm up to block a snap kick directed at his face. By now another commando had dropped into the cramped cabin and joined in on the assault.

Jake managed to dodge several of the punches thrown at him by the second commando and then grabbed one of the man's arms, pulling him close for a short-arm clothesline that temporarily knocked the man to the ground. While holding the commando, he managed to pull off a side kick that sent the other man flying backwards into a control panel.

The second commando attempted to sweep Jake from his feet, but the criminal leapt over it and performed a tornado kick on the commando he had just knocked backwards, knocking him even harder back into the panel and drawing sparks this time.

Returning his attention to the second commando, who had now returned to his feet, Jake grabbed the man and drove his knee into the man's face several times before heaving him through the front window and onto the track below. The sound of breaking bones and ripping flesh attested to the man's gruesome fate.

The delirious remaining commando staggered from the wrecked control panel and attempted foolishly to reach for his sidearm. Not wanting the extra hassle, Jake withdrew his katana and ended the man's life in an instant.

Breathing heavily, the career criminal kept his sword drawn and withdrew the SOCOM, keeping both weapons ready in the instance of another attack. No gunfire and no radio chatter could be heard around him and after a few minutes he finally lowered his weapons and returned his attention to the controls.

"Finally…" he rasped to himself as he adjusted the train's speed as fast as it could go to remain on the tracks. Looking at a schedule above him, he saw that the train had been scheduled to head for a city called Maple before the incident befell Springvale, roughly a few hours away from the smaller community.

"Anywhere but here," he spoke quietly as he grabbed the dead commando's body and flung it out the front window, leaving it to be crushed by the moving train. Daylight shone upon the train from a small opening and within seconds the criminal was greeted by bright sunlight for the first time in hours. Gone from the dimly-lit tunnels, the train was now passing through open farmlands on a bright sunny day and in the distance Jake could make out a few small towns.

The criminal smiled at the peaceful scenery that now surrounded him and leaned back against the wall to relax. It would be a few hours until he reached Maple and until then he would just sit back and get some much needed rest. What he did once he reached the city he would ponder more once he got there. Maybe he would stop by the nearest shop and get some new clothes, stop by a Burger Shot and get a meal, stop by a strip club for some quality entertainment, find the nearest bus stop and get himself a ticket back to Unity City and back to his hideout, anything.

For now though, he would just sit back and relax and quickly drifted off into a peaceful slumber for the first time in days.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Through here," an HCF commando directed, holding the maintenance door open for both of them.

Wesker and Karkian brushed wordlessly past the commando as they made their way down the maintenance hallway, where a few more commandos were checking the dead bodies of fallen comrades for weapons and ammo before dragging them out of the cramped quarters.

"That bastard…" Karkian could only mutter to himself as he watched more bodies being pulled from the hallway.

Albert Wesker ignored the commander's comment and continued his silent march towards the control room around the corner and took note of the bullet-marked walls and blood splatters.

"Only digging your grave further," the supervisor thought to himself as he walked into the control room and noticed the dead bodies littering the floor, all lying in twisted positions of agony, dead by the criminal's hand.

The door at the front of the room opened and several remaining members of the Nighthawk platoon entered the room, cursing quietly among themselves. Once they took note of Wesker and Karkian's presence however, they quickly straightened up and saluted the two superiors.

"At ease," Wesker spoke to the men and they lowered their hands placing them behind their backs. "What's the status of our target?"

The troopers looked uneasily to one another before one of them finally cleared his throat and spoke, "He escaped on a train. Some of our men managed to get onboard, but we haven't heard any radio transmissions from them since. We suspect the worst could've happened to them…" the man finished sounding unsure of himself.

Wesker stood silent for a moment, his lips pursing into a thin, unreadable line. Turning to the commander he still said nothing and then refocused on the men before him, "Did any of you get the number of that train?"

"Yes sir!" one of the men piped up, "S-1740, it was the train parked there when he took off!"

The ex-S.T.A.R.S. captain turned to Commander Karkian again, "Find out what line the S-1740 was on and where its last intended destination was."

Nodding to his superior, the commander made his way over to the main control panel stained from the blood of the previous battle and began typing away commands to bring up the track listings.

While the commander went to work, a low moan was heard and the troopers looked down to the floor where a lone survivor slowly rose to his knees and then braced himself against the table at the center of the room to pull himself back to his feet.

Shooting a glare to the commandos as a means of telling them to remain where they were, Wesker made his way over to the commando and stood over him as the man balanced himself and shook his head. Slowly turning around, the man was startled to find the supervisor standing behind him and nearly fell backwards into the table.

"Oh…Mr. Wesker!" the man blurted out, only to be silenced by the supervisor raising his hand.

"Tell me Private, Jake Cavanaugh passed through here, did he not?"

A look of horror was plastered upon the private's face beneath his gasmask and as if he were able to see beneath the mask, a demonic, shark-like grin crossed the ex-S.T.A.R.S. captain's features. The man stood jittering and whimpering in terror wetting himself in the process.

"I asked you a question, Jake Cavanaugh passed through here, did he not?" the supervisor repeated taking a step towards his subordinate.

The private breathed heavily before finally muttering a response, "Yes…yes he was through here!"

"I see," Wesker said straightening himself up and crossing his arms over his chest, "and he escaped, did he not?"

Feeling his supervisor burning a hole into his soul from behind his shades, the nameless private shuddered before he spoke, "H-He…came tearing through here…like a bat out of hell…he killed them all…and knocked me out…I didn't know…whether or not…he escaped…"

"Nevertheless private, your incompetence allowed him to escape," Wesker stated flatly, his balled fists falling to his sides. "Do you have any means of explaining yourself?"

The terrified private stood rooted to his position only emitting terrified whimpers, "No…no…no…I-I…don't…I-I-It w-won't happen again…I swear…"

"You're right it won't happen again," Wesker replied and launched his hands up, wrapping them around the private's throat. With little effort, the supervisor easily snapped the trooper's neck and let his limp body fall to the floor.

Silence fell over the room as the other commandos witnessed their supervisor's display of power on one of their own. Fear crept through all of their minds knowing he probably wouldn't hesitate to do the same to them if they screwed up.

Wesker could sense the eyes upon him and turned to the others with a broad toothy smile, "Let that be a lesson to all of you. Consider this fellow lucky, because if I witness the same incompetence coming from any of you, then I promise your deaths won't be as quick and painless!"

The commandos all nodded warily to the supervisor and exited to the lobby to gather the corpses of their fallen.

Returning his attention to Commander Karkian, he walked over to the control panel where the superior officer still typed away, "Have you found anything yet?"

A loud beep sounded and a bar began flashing on the screen indicating a match. "According to this schedule, the S-1740 train was last scheduled to depart for Maple before the outbreak and it's heading out on that line right now. It should take him roughly two and a half hours to get there." Karkian then turned to face his superior, "If you ask me, we should get one of our air units and bomb the train while it's out in the middle of nowhere, save us the unwanted attention from locals."

Wesker was slightly amused by the suggestion and decided to call the man's bluff, "Really? I thought you were so anxious to kill the man by your own hand? I doubt you'd be able to kill something that's already dead." He shot a cocky grin towards the commander, who stared quietly back to him.

"Remember it was that bastard Jake Cavanaugh who murdered your men," the supervisor spoke stepping towards the man, "Sure, you could bomb the train he's supposed to be on, but you never know if he's escaped or not. If you don't know where he is then how will you be able to enjoy the satisfaction of killing him with your own bare hands?"

Karkian still said nothing and placed a hand over the compartment in his vest where he held the fabric ripped from the remnants of Cavanaugh's t-shirt, displaying the elaborate red dragon design he used to remind him of who his real target was and to motivate him to attack the man with more rage when they finally met again. The commander smiled bitterly at the thought of finally killing the criminal and quietly whispered the younger man's name to himself. Deep in his mind, he could almost feel the red dragon burning him through his glove, his hatred for the man burning into his very soul.

"I take it I've made my point then?" Wesker asked the man.

"Very well, I want Cavanaugh's head for myself!" Karkian replied touching his fist to his chest.

"So it shall be done," the supervisor smirked to himself.

Sure he had just promised Jake Cavanaugh's head to the vengeful commander and indeed he himself had wanted the career criminal's death for quite some time after his betrayal, but right now he was beginning to develop his own ulterior motives.

Throughout witnessing the criminal in action, he suddenly underwent a change of heart. Suddenly killing the man would take all the fun away, although it would be an easy task for the man himself to accomplish. Right now however, he still had the urge to recruit the man for his own nefarious deeds, but believed it could be accomplished through "other means."

"You may still have a place in my organization after all Cavanaugh," Wesker though slyly to himself and then looked back to Karkian, "I want a retrieval team sent to the Maple train yard at once. We're going to give that punk a warm welcome he'll never forget."


	45. Chapter 40: Captured

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Chapter 40: Captured

The loud whining of steel on steel slowly stirred Jake Cavanaugh from his slumber as he lay slumped against the wall in the engineer's cabin, ruining what had probably been one of the best dreams he'd had in quite a while.

Grunting harshly, the young criminal raised his head and rotated it before popping it back into place. Bracing himself against the wall he slowly rose back to his feet and stretched his limbs out before walking over to the shattered window to feel the air blowing through against his face. Feeling slightly refreshed he rubbed his face a little until his vision had refocused and he took in his new surroundings.

Gone were the vast fields of miscellaneous farmland and small, quaint hamlets off in the distance, now replaced by the tall buildings, smog and urban sprawl of a city and judging by the moving vehicles and people walking around on the nearby streets, a city with actual, living people, a sight that seemed so foreign compared to what he had witnessed for nearly a week.

"Never thought I'd be so happy to see other human beings," Jake spoke quietly to himself as he continued to take in the fresh air blowing against his face. Sure, they were people who would probably run away upon knowing who he really is and try reporting him to the police, but at least they were still alive and wouldn't have some manmade virus to pass onto him.

From taking a look at the factories and warehouses around him, he could tell that he was in the industrial part of town and was probably en route to some train yard. Chances were very high there were probably workers milling about on their daily rounds, meaning he would have to sneak his way out of the train yard and then sneak his way through the back alleys until he could find a more suitable disguise, then he could walk amongst the common public until he found a way out of the city.

"Then hopefully I can find someplace those freaks can't find me," the criminal thought to himself remembering the numerous brushes with death he had endured battling Albert Wesker's HCF forces. Those were some sneaky creeps he had fought back there and relentless ones too who were hell bent on taking him out, so willing a majority lost their lives in the process.

Now entering the train yard, Jake looked around finding numerous trains already parked and searched for any workers, but strangely found the place seemingly deserted.

"Damn it! Please tell me I'm not wandering into another Raccoon or Springvale," Jake grunted to himself again readying his M-4. The stop was coming up and the career criminal pulled back on the brake to slow the train down. Acting on natural instinct, he knelt down near the control panel expecting heavily-armed commandos to be waiting for him. Crouch walking towards the door, the criminal hugged the wall again and waited for the train to come to a complete stop.

Breathing in deeply and mentally readying himself for another battle, Jake listened for any footsteps and radio chatter he would expect to hear from his adversaries. Instead he could only hear the beeping horns of cars, squawking of seagulls and chatter of ordinary civilians in the distance, the normal kind of noise pollution he expected from a big city.

The sounds of normalcy were enticing to the criminal, but his suspicions kept him pinned down and he continued listening for anything out of the ordinary near one of the shattered windows. A chill running down his spine told him something was not right and he exited the cabin, moving in a crouch walk low enough to avoid the windows. Dead bodies still littered the floor from their attempted sweep of the train, only to fall before Jake's armor-piercing rounds. Their blood had long dried and some of them still clutched weapons of similar makes in their hands. Suspicion still running high in his mind, the criminal looted whatever ammunition he possibly could before making his way to the back door at the end of the train, thinking snipers were positioned near the side exits.

Slowly sliding the back door open, the criminal leapt down and rolled for cover behind a stack of metal crates. Hearing nothing he moved over to another stack and kept moving forward between random cover until he had reached the front of the train.

Coming to the end, he now found a wide open space filled with numerous stacks of iron crates, forklifts, a few more rail cars and lying facedown on the ground, the dead body of a worker, his gray industrial jumper painted crimson by the ragged holes in his back.

"Looks like my paranoia has once again been justified," Jake thought to himself looking off to the side and seeing a few more shot up bodies littering the paved surface. He was not alone and danger certainly had him surrounded from all sides. Having taken a brief nap he felt a little more energized and ready for another round of battle.

Sticking his head out a bit, he waved the muzzle around until he was briefly blinded by a red light, forcing him to fall to the ground for cover. A half-second later, a bullet struck the crate above him.

"They've got silencers now, another thing to keep in mind," the criminal thought to himself ready to peek around another corner. "Obviously can't risk unwanted attention in a populated city, probably got a pretty public image to protect. I'll give them some attention alright."

Standing up and raising his rifle into the air, he fired a random burst hoping to draw out the hiding guards, knowing he was now threatening their cover of silence.

A hail of silenced bullets pinged off the metal container Jake hid behind and numerous pairs of footsteps lightly pounded the ground before him. Stepping into the open, the criminal fired into an approaching HCF commando, striking him in several vital areas. Strangely though, before the dying commando could hit the ground, his body disintegrated into nothing.

"What the fuck?" Jake muttered to himself taking cover as more commandos appeared. He knew he wasn't hallucinating, but that man had vanished into thin air upon receiving several fatal rounds. The concept wasn't entirely new to him as he remembered reading government conspiracy books, more specifically a topic regarding the enigmatic "men in black," who were presumably secret agents who were supposed to have dissolved into nothing upon dying to cover up traceable evidence. These commandos weren't "men in black," but they probably did have some kind of bomb built into their bodies designed to detonate once they died.

It meant nothing either way to the career criminal; they stood in his way, for that they would die.

The commandos continued firing away with silenced pistols and submachine guns, a few snipers armed with silenced rifles backing them up. Unlike the troopers he had encountered back in Springvale, who communicated back and forth frequently, these troops made no sound using hand gestures to do their talking.

"Giving me the silent treatment, huh?" Jake sarcastically quipped before stepping out and firing another barrage, taking down two more troopers and literally reducing them to nothing. With the grace of a circus acrobat, another trooper back flipped onto the train he arrived in and began firing at the criminal. Taking the masked man down with a shot to the face, the criminal then pulled out his remaining hand grenade and tossed it through one of the shattered windows.

"Try explaining this, freaks," the criminal thought to himself running away from the train, only to have it systematically detonate behind him.

The commandos were firing away more frantically at him now knowing their cover was threatened. Their rounds had no effect in scaring the criminal as he continued to fire away at them, dropping a few more as he ran towards a warehouse, striking a few explosive barrels and taking out more of the mysterious troopers.

Running through an opened garage door, the criminal quickly found himself rolling underneath a swinging mass of iron beams suspended in the air above and keeping his back lowered as hooks swung above him. Silenced rounds tore through stacks of wooden crates and cardboard boxes as the criminal bobbed and weaved his way around several that stood in his way and ducked underneath a running conveyor belt hoping to reach the nearest exit.

Silent killers filtered into the warehouse behind their target, firing away madly at a man who was just too quick for them, even with his muscular size. The frantic looks and gestures indicated their desperation to take down the fleeing criminal before he could reach the general population.

Jake continued to somehow unwitting dodge the bullets soaring through the air around him as he made his way towards the nearest garage door, the panel being struck beside him as he bolted through the door raining sparks onto him.

"Be on the lookout, he should be heading your way," the criminal heard a voice call out over a radio from nearby. Strangely, it was calming to hear that they could actually talk.

Creeping into the shadows once again, the criminal withdrew his katana and waited patiently for any approaching enemies. Using a tactic he had perfected over the years, he listened for the sounds of gravel crunching and kept the blade held close to his body ready to claim yet another victim. From his hiding spot, he witnessed two of the soldiers making their way through a nearby gate, only the sounds of their breathing indicating they were alive.

"Time to do your thing," Jake muttered towards his sword as if it were a fellow human. Waiting for his enemies to pass, he leapt into the opening and slashed his sword twice in rapid succession, taking down both men like dominoes. Only their weapons remained and knowing he would eventually have to play the mysterious commandos at their own game, snatched up one of the silenced MP5's along with all the ammunition.

Creeping through an open train yard, Jake moved throughout open train cars and hid behind other objects to avoid being spotted by the commandos and had managed to kill a few more with his sword and silenced firearms when they managed to get too close for comfort.

"For once I can feel thankful these freaks dissolve into nothing upon death," the criminal thought to himself wiping sweat from his forehead, knowing that he would not have to worry about the additional struggle of hiding the dead bodies of his enigmatic adversaries.

Jake silently checked the current clip of his silenced submachine gun as he hid in a train car and listened for the sounds of crackling gravel around him. It sounded like two or three troopers were circling the car as he hid. Reaching into his belt he pulled out one of his handguns and emptied the clip, placing the bullets in one of his storage compartments and readying the now emptied clip as he made his way towards a hatch at the top of the train car.

A loud clatter came from within the train car the three HCF commandos had surrounded, a rusted out red car labeled "Sherwood Farms, Inc." Shifting his head back and forth, the commando closest to the car pointed urgently in its direction as if silently shouting "He's in there!"

Running frantically towards the car, the lead commando threw the sliding door open and joined by his two comrades, the three men entered the darkened car and opened fire, rattling metal cages and knocking over several crates. The gunfire abruptly halted when they noticed the opened hatch on the car's rooftop.

The loud rattle of the door sliding shut behind them sounded and the three commandos tried turning around, but it was too late and they were soon locked into the cramped car.

"It's him!" one of the commandos whispered loudly to his colleagues and quickly made his way for the hatch.

"Thought I'd be leaving so soon?" a familiar voice called out. Jake Cavanaugh leapt down through the opened hatch and raised his silenced submachine gun, spraying the three commandos with a volley of silent fury.

"What a joke," Jake muttered to himself until the clang of metal shattering rang out and the sliding door of the train car flew open. Twelve commandos stood with silenced weapons raised, all trained on the lone criminal.

"No more running Cavanaugh, it ends now!" one of the commandos barked.

"Alright, I give! You win!" Jake shouted throwing down the submachine gun and raising his hands into the air.

Before the commandos could cock their weapons, Jake reached underneath his trench coat and withdrew his dual Berettas.

"You punks obviously have no idea who I am!"

Loud popping resounded through the train yard as the criminal dropped several enemies with deadly head shots and forcing the others to seek cover. Jake could only smirk as he noticed the commandos had foolishly sought cover near a large gas tank and pulled the trigger, followed by a massive boom that enveloped the enemy troopers and knocked several train cars from their tracks.

"Not!" Jake said with a cocky smirk and turned on his heel walking away.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"He's still alive?" Albert Wesker asked the squad leader over his cell phone, "You needn't worry Captain Almasy; Jake Cavanaugh will not make it out of Maple alive. You have my word and if you can hold him off long enough, Commander Karkian and I will be there to personally deal with him."

A brief pause followed before the supervisor spoke again, "Give us fifteen minutes, we are approaching the Maple airspace as you speak."

Captain Almasy spoke in a more frantic tone from the other end, loud enough to be heard by Commander Karkian sitting next to Wesker, "You do have the time to hold him off, trust me. The synthetic Sweepers are designed for combat and nothing else, better them to perish than your own troops. We will be there, you can count on it. Wesker out."

Albert Wesker slapped the cell phone shut and slid it back into his pocket. The former S.T.A.R.S. captain sighed and leaned back in his seat while Commander Karkian sat next to him looking on intently. The commander had once again temporarily removed his gas mask so his steely stare once again enveloped the supervisor, forcing the man to take notice.

"What is it now?" Wesker asked in annoyance, removing his shades so his reptilian eyes met with the Commander's gray ones.

"I hope you remember our deal," Karkian rasped, "Cavanaugh's head will be mine and I want nothing to stand in my way!"

Wesker's annoyance turned to a smirk, "I'm a man of my word Gabriel and you will eventually get your chance with Cavanaugh."

Gabriel Karkian furrowed his brow at his long-time colleague, placing one of his hands to his pistol, "Don't bullshit me Albert, I know you're plotting something. Don't think I haven't been around you long enough to sense when you're planning something. I'm going to find out what it is and when I do, you won't even want to think of what I might have planned afterwards."

"Your paranoia never ceases to amuse me," Wesker chuckled placing his shades back on and sitting back in his seat.

"Bastard," Karkian thought to himself sitting back in his own seat looking at the troopers sitting across from him.

The two men were riding in the back of a CH-47 Chinook transport helicopter en route to Maple; with them were thirty commandos who made up the fresh Ares Brigade, another elite HCF unit second only to the Gold Squad. Unfortunately, the former squad had suffered several casualties back in Raccoon City and its surviving members would need a much needed rest period, hence the second best team has been sent in.

Most of the men sat silently while a few sitting next to each other chatted quietly amongst themselves. They were on the verge of another important mission and wanted to keep their focus unbroken as they approached the city from above.

"Sir, we are now approaching Maple airspace! Be prepared for drop off in approximately thirteen minutes," the pilot reported to Wesker via his own private earpiece.

"Acknowledged," Wesker boomed into the piece and looked over to Karkian.

"Time for another meeting Mr. Cavanaugh," he thought to himself, "This time things won't be ending in your favor as much as they will my own."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The rattle of the vehicle-mounted heavy machine gun droned out all the sounds around Jake as he fired upon the silent killers surrounding him.

After some more wandering in search of a possible exit, the career criminal happened across another open area where numerous commandos were heavily entrenched, ready to shoot upon sight. The rage of what they had done to him still boiling heavily in his veins, he decided to let off some steam.

Deep down he had also hoped to attract the attention of the authorities, something he had never thought he would want to do for once in his life.

Pulling out his M-4 assault rifle he had instantly mowed down several commandos and went through more than one clip before happening across an M1025 Scout Humvee. Leaping into the vehicle-mounted turret, the criminal just squeezed down the trigger and proceeded to cut down the dissolving commandos left and right until his ammunition ran out.

"Plenty more where that came from," Jake muttered again pulling out his M-4 and running for cover while firing at the same time. The amount of bullets flying in his direction had been greatly reduced thanks to all the commandos he had killed, but was still enough to be of major concern and left him searching for a possible escape route.

Sticking his head out to fire again, the criminal's eyes widened when he found himself staring down the barrel of a Stinger missile launcher, the sadistic faceless commando squeezing the trigger as he stuck his head out.

"Crap!!!"

Jake pushed himself away from the building and took off running as fast as possible, the loud hiss of the missile being fired following close behind him. Attempting to round a corner, from there on he could only recall a bright flash and a deafening boom before he was sent flying through the air.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Did you just hear that?" a frightened office worker shouted to the crowd of people gathered at an outdoor bistro, "It sounded like a rocket…and…and…and then gunfire!"

"I heard it too!" shouted a young woman, "It almost sounded like it was coming from the train yard!"

Citizens of all ages, shapes and backgrounds temporarily halted their daily activities as they listened in on the explosions from a far, many seeking cover believing that they were under attack.

Towards the Maple Train Yards sped a caravan of police vehicles, cruisers, S.W.A.T. Enforcers, motorbikes and helicopters flying overhead. Their mission objective, attend to the disturbance at hand.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In an event nothing new to the career criminal, Jake Cavanaugh's life had literally been rocked and turned upside down.

"Ugh…fuck…" the young criminal cursed trying to fight his way out of the large heap of trash and old mattresses he had landed in after being thrown by the massive rocket blast. Climbing through the crumpled papers and soggy cardboard he finally managed to push his hand through the filth he lay beneath. With another grunt he pushed his upper body through the pile and shoved an old mattress aside.

"Hey buddy, you alright?" a gruff voice called out next to him.

"Wha…what…" Jake grunted wiping the grime from his eyes. Blinking his eyes open he looked to his right to find a small group of hobos gathered around him, all of whom were unkempt and dressed in tattered clothing. Grunting again, the criminal ignored the man's question and stood up, as he did more disheveled tramps entered the picture emerging from beneath cardboard boxes and sleeping bags and a few even stepping out from their crudely constructed shanties to catch a glimpse of their unexpected "visitor."

"Hey buddy, I asked you a question," the same bum spoke again. Catching a closer look at the man as he stepped down, the man was revealed to be in his late forties to early fifties with short shaggy red hair and a bushy, even scragglier beard with streaks of gray. The vagrant carried the look of an ex-soldier with a filthy olive drab combat jacket that had an American flag patch stitched into the right shoulder and matching pants dotted with numerous tears. "Are you alright? We heard this loud explosion and then you came flying down here like a black comet! Sound like ya' were havin' a big battle up there or somethin'!"

Jake still didn't respond, only breathing heavily at the man's persistence. Raising his fist, he backhanded the aging bum and sent him flying into an old television set, forcing several of the man's companions to leap back in terror.

"Everybody get the hell out of here now!" the criminal screamed and raised his M-4 into the air firing wildly at nothing. "You heard me, fucking move!!!"

Many of the homeless vagrants who had been lying around in drunken stupors were quickly sobered by the ear-splitting rounds and were sent fleeing through the trash-laden alley, tripping over each other as they sped toward the exits they knew.

"Keep moving! Get the hell out of here!" Jake shouted still firing into the air as he ran forward dodging whatever debris lay before him. The shattering of glass forced the young criminal to turn around and he looked up to find the silent killers leaping into the alley training their weapons upon him.

The career criminal said nothing as he slapped a new clip into his rifle and fired back at his relentless adversaries, taking down three of them in one barrage before resuming his flight.

Rounding a corner, Jake was nearly knocked from his feet as he bumped into homeless drunkard. "Get out of my way!" the criminal shouted shoving the man to the ground and using a powerful shoulder tackle to knock another out of his way. Pushing his way through some sheets hanging from a clothesline he happened across the gate the bums had been escaping through.

Kicking the gate open, the criminal found himself near a construction site where a few construction workers looked on in bewilderment as the horde of drunken bums came flying out of the alley.

"Hey man, what's going on back there?" a burly construction worker in a sweat-stained wife beater asked upon spotting the fleeing criminal. Jake only responded with a filthy look and kept on running.

A second later, the construction worker fell over dead as a silenced round pierced his throat. The silent commandos had made their way into the open and fired upon Jake and the construction workers around him, forcing the hapless civilians to take cover behind whatever they could.

Jake took cover behind a parked front loader and fired back at the commandos, taking down two more before he was forced to reload. Seeing a stack of metal crates near a chain-link fence, the criminal fired back into his attackers before quickly ascending the crates and leaping over the fence.

Panicked workers fled about in all directions as Jake found himself leaping down into the site of a plaza in progress, all work being conducted having been abandoned the second the gunfire and explosions began.

"That's right, get the fuck out of here!" Jake shouted to the fleeing workers as he dodged around a few running in his direction and ran down a hill where he spotted a parked Rancher.

Looking around for the silent commandos following him, Jake quickly bolted for the parked vehicle hoping there would be some keys inside. Moving as quickly as he could, he ran until he was halted by the cocking of numerous rifles.

"Drop your weapon and put your hands up!!!"

From the cover of unfinished buildings several heavily-armed S.W.A.T. members emerged, clad in their black and blue uniforms and toting MP5's and tactical shotguns. The roar of an engine was heard and the back gate came flying open as a S.W.A.T. Enforcer came barreling into the construction site, followed closely by another and then several police HPV1000 motorcycles.

"This is the Maple Police Department, drop your weapon and put your hands up! Do it now!" a voice blared from a loudspeaker above as a Police Maverick flew into sight.

"Terrific!" Jake muttered loudly to himself as he stared at the officers surrounding him.

"You heard me, drop your fucking weapon now!" the same officer shouted again and began walking towards Jake with his MP5 trained on the criminal's forehead.

Grunting in frustration, Jake tossed his weapon to the ground, glaring hatefully at the officer approaching him. "There!" he spat bitterly.

"Every gun you have, toss them to the ground immediately!" the officer barked again, several more of his S.W.A.T. colleagues creeping up behind him with weapons at the ready.

Shaking his head in defeat, the criminal tossed the silenced MP5 to the ground, followed by his dual Berettas, SOCOM and katana sword. The officer glared at him from beneath his balaclava, able to tell Jake still had weapons on him.

Reading the officer's questioning stare, Jake growled as he reached into his coat and produced his S&W, his favorite gun and the very gun that had saved his life countless times in Raccoon City, tossing it roughly to the ground.

"Now show me your hands!" the S.W.A.T. officer barked.

Jake stood silent furrowing his brow at the approaching officer, almost as if he dared the man to walk up and hit him.

"Show me your fucking hands now!" the officer hollered, having lost his patience and walking up to the career criminal. Jake remained quiet and made no attempt to resist the man's advance as his wrist was grabbed and the officer reached for a pair of handcuffs.

"You're under arrest pal and if you're behind all this shit, then you can bet that you're in for some hard time!" another officer barked shoving his shotgun into the criminal's lower back.

"Officer Mendoza, please read the man his Miranda Rights," the first officer spoke again as he was about to apply the first cuff.

The piercing of flesh sounded and blood splattered onto another nearby officer. Officer Mendoza fell to the ground with a gaping hole in his throat, killed by an unseen attacker.

"Son of a…" another officer blurted out raising his weapon. Before he could react, he fell over dead with a bullet between the eyes.

The tense officers began to panic and one by one, they fell to the ground all killed by silenced rounds from unseen assailants. In the end Jake Cavanaugh stood alone amongst a field of bodies, the work of only one group.

"Come on out you bastards," Jake muttered silently to himself picking up his guns ready for another confrontation.

From the shadows emerged the same commandos who had been stalking Jake ever since he escaped from Springvale, clutching their still smoking rifles and submachine guns. The mysterious men stood tall above him looking down with weapons ready, but for some reason they did not fire as if awaiting orders.

"You bastards sure are tough when you're all in one large group," the career criminal taunted kicking his M-4 back into his grip. None of the commandos replied and kept their weapons trained on him.

"And you talk big for a dead man Mr. Cavanaugh," another voice spoke, one Jake hoped he would never have to hear again.

Albert Wesker emerged from the crowd of commandos and smiled wickedly towards the lone criminal.

"What the fuck?" Jake gasped in astonishment.

The HCF supervisor should have been dead. Jake watched with his own eyes as he fired a round that struck the man between the eyes and sent him crumpling to the ground dead.

But here he was, still alive and kicking, then again should such a sight have been so unique after everything he saw in Raccoon City?

"What's the matter Jake? You're not happy to see me?" the ex-S.T.A.R.S. captain taunted crossing his arms over his jacketed chest.

"And just how the hell did you do it?" Jake asked resting his rifle against his shoulder, "Did Umbrella screw with your DNA too?"

Wesker smiled at the comment, "Let's just say I am not like you, I have become something more, something along the lines of an advanced evolution beyond Darwin's wildest dreams."

"Is that so?" Jake asked, "Advanced evolution or not, it doesn't mean I'm still not going to kick your punk ass!"

"Ever the overconfident fool," Wesker chuckled and with the grace of a feline, performed a forward flip at superhuman speed, landing a few feet away from the career criminal.

"Still not satisfied," Jake scoffed, "You're going to have to do more than that to scare me."

"A man without fear, I don't know whether that's supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing for you Mr. Cavanaugh," Wesker said adjusting his perpetual shades, "A wiser man would have turned and ran away minutes ago, perhaps a death wish runs through your inferior genetics."

"Keep talking, it's going to get you busted up even more than you can afford," the criminal replied tightening the grip on his M-4.

"You called my men tough when they have strength in numbers against one, frankly you're not much better having to point an assault rifle at an unarmed man," the HCF supervisor spoke, tossing a Colt .45 and combat knife to the ground.

Jake grunted and tossed his M-4 to the ground, "If that's how you want it, fine!"

"I admire your courage, but you are a fool to face me," Wesker said furrowing his brow beneath his shades.

"Just shut up and fight already," Jake shouted back.

The career criminal hopped up and down throwing a few practice punches into the air while the HCF supervisor balled his fists and buried his foot into the dirt.

Moving closer to one another, the two men circled each other waiting to see who would make the first move.

Growing impatient, but keeping his cool long enough, Jake started by throwing a roundhouse kick in Wesker's direction. The supervisor easily tilted his head back to dodge the attack.

"Don't tell me that's all you've got for me now do you?" Wesker coldly taunted.

Jake said nothing and threw an uppercut which the man easily sidestepped. Leaping back quickly the criminal then leapt forward again and threw a combo of punches at his opponent ending with a right hook the man again dodged. Attempting to divert the supervisor's attention, he leapt into the air performing a Tae Kwon Do-style roundhouse kick and then knelt down as soon as he touched the ground performing a spinning sweep kick. Unfortunately, his opponent was still too quick, ducking the first attack and leaping quickly over the next.

"Come on, this can't be the legendary Red Dragon I've heard stories about," Wesker taunted, "The Red Dragon I heard about was quicker than the eye, flying with the speed of a dragon!"

Before he knew it, Jake found himself sailing through the air, knocked backwards by a powerful spinning back fist to the cheek that came to him in a blur. The criminal's body spun in the air several times before it finally hit the ground.

Pushing himself back to his knees he could barely shake it off, "Damn it, what the hell is this guy on?" he thought to himself, "That was like being hit by a Mack truck!"

The criminal never had a chance to rise back to his feet as the same black blur charged towards him, kneeing him hard in the gut and sending him flying even farther back.

"Fuck…" Jake could barely gasp before the blood started pouring out of his mouth. His stomach and abdomen were now on fire, feeling like they were about to dissolve after taking another punishing blow from the HCF supervisor.

"You disappoint me Jacob," Wesker said walking towards the man with his hands behind his back, shaking his head in disgust. "To think I almost wasted ten million dollars on your worthless hide. The thought of you being a highly sought after mercenary is highly laughable," the supervisor spoke with no trace of emotion.

Rage burned in the criminal's mind, perhaps the only thing that kept him moving in this confrontation.

"Just…shut…the…fuck up…" Jake grunted in between coughing up blood. He lay on his back struggling to rise again, the pain in his torso keeping him pinned to the ground.

"Sounds like you should be the one shutting up," Wesker chuckled placing his foot on the criminal's chest and pressing down hard, hard enough to cause a gut-wrenching pain, but not hard enough to crush his victim's ribs and sternum.

"Quit toying with him and kill him already!" another voice called out, the same voice Jake recognized from the radio before he entered the Springvale subway.

Wesker ignored the commando's comment and reached down, grasping Jake's throat with an iron grip and easily lifting him into the air as if he were a rag doll. The criminal had already dwarfed him by three inches, but now he looked even taller as he stared down into his tormentor's shades.

"You should've accepted my offer, now look at you," the HCF supervisor spoke; "Now you're going to die." With those words, Wesker tightened his grip.

Jake had to think fast or else he would be dead within a few seconds. He could tell the man wanted to toy with him for a while and probably could've snapped his neck like a twig had he chose, he would have to gather up all the strength he could.

Using what strength he had left, the criminal brought his foot up, performing a roundhouse kick to his assailant's face. Wesker did not cry out in surprise and only staggered back a few steps, summoning up more strength from within, Jake followed up using his entire body to perform a leaping somersault kick that snapped the supervisor's head backward and sent the shades flying from his face.

Jake cried out as he landed hard on the ground, striking one of his knees hard against the dirt. Trying best to ignore the pain spreading throughout his body he forced himself to look up at his attacker, who lightly shook off a powerful kick that would have normally knocked someone unconscious upon impact. His opponent looking down upon him, the criminal saw something that shouldn't have been from a normal human being.

Opening his eyes, rather than the normal shade of blue, green, brown or hazel he would have expected, instead Jake saw two bright yellow corneas with black slits where pupils should have been surrounded by a tint of reddish-orange, the same kind of eyes he had seen on the Hunters back in Raccoon City.

"What…the hell…are you?" Jake asked in ragged gasps, more blood dripping out every time he opened his mouth.

"I already told you; I'm the next stage in human evolution!" Wesker triumphantly declared and threw a punch at his opponent's face.

Acting instinctively, Jake threw his arms up to block the attack, but instead found himself pushed backwards again grunting in pain as he felt the bones in his left forearm snap.

"That's the thing I like about you puny humans," Wesker smiled, "you're still able to feel pain!" The superhuman supervisor rushed towards Jake again in a blur of motion and drew his arm back, connecting with another powerful punch that dented the steel plates beneath both of the criminal's Kevlar vests and fracturing three of his ribs.

Jake wriggled on the ground in intense pain, suppressing his cries of pain beneath blood-stained teeth. Never before had he been manhandled like this and it was the anger of that realization that kept him coming back for more. His mind would never allow him to back down from a sneak like Wesker and his iron will would never allow him to give in to a beating like this, especially from a coward who had sent him on a literal suicide mission without prior knowledge.

Again Wesker snatched the criminal, this time by the collar, so that he was looking directly into the advanced humanoid's reptilian eyes.

"Scream for me!" Wesker demanded, wanting the satisfaction of hearing the criminal's will break into pieces.

"Fuck…you…" Jake weakly growled, "I'll never scream…not for someone…like you…"

"Have it your way," Wesker smirked before effortlessly slamming him to the ground with one hand, hard enough for him to rebound.

"Not like this!" Jake thought to himself lying on the ground. He had to do something fast. It suddenly clicked in his mind that he still had his combat knife on him and fighting back the pain, reached down to his shin holster to remove the glistening blade and with all the force he could muster chucked it at his adversary.

Wesker saw the blade coming from a mile away and using his enhanced reflexes easily caught the object in midair.

"Playing with knives? Perhaps there really is no honor among thieves," the supervisor taunted flipping the blade a couple times before tossing it back to its owner, catching the man in the shoulder.

"Damn you!" Jake managed to shout as the blood ran down his left shoulder, further aggravating the already injured limb. Reaching over, it took him a few attempts before he finally managed to extract the blade and weakly dropped it next to him.

"Perhaps my message isn't getting through to you Mr. Cavanaugh," Wesker spoke dusting off his sunglasses and placing them back over his reptilian eyes, "Please allow me to re-emphasize my point."

The ex-S.T.A.R.S. captain cleared his throat and then let out the same bone-jarring shriek made only by the Hunters, causing even greater torture for the wounded criminal who could only lay there and take the punishment as the pain left him crippled.

"I hope you're happy with yourself because look at what your foolish pride has brought upon you Mr. Cavanaugh," Wesker spoke before grabbing Jake by his ankles and spinning him around a few times before he finally let go and sent the young man flying into a stack of oil drums.

"Damn…you…Wesker…" Jake rasped as he tried to get back to his feet, but could not move a muscle and passed out from the pain.

Albert Wesker stood with hands on his hips proud of his work. For once he felt proud in the presence of Jake Cavanaugh, having eliminated someone he deemed too inferior to even exist.

"Alright Wesker, you've had your fun with him, now it's my turn," Commander Karkian spoke up raising his M-4 assault rifle and training it on the fallen criminal's battered body. "Believe me; I've been waiting a long time for this."

Just as the commander lined up his sights and was ready to squeeze the trigger, the gloved hand of Wesker suddenly shot out and clamped down upon the muzzle of his rifle, crushing it with the tiniest effort.

"Huh? Wesker what the hell are you doing?" Karkian screamed looking down at his ruined rifle. "You promised me I would get his head once this mess was all over with!"

The supervisor only snickered at the commander's protest, "I lied! Let's just say Mr. Cavanaugh's usefulness might not have run out just yet."

"What? What the hell are you talking about?" Karkian shouted getting in his face, "He refused your offer and murdered countless troopers belonging to you and now you still want him on your side? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm a man who sees opportunity in the most unlikely of all places, that's what's wrong with me my friend," Wesker replied shoving the commander aside and walking towards the prone criminal. "I know of plenty ways we can still get this man on our side. You have to have faith that I can still mold him into our own personalized killing machine."

"You're insane!" Karkian retorted, "I say we kill him right now and save ourselves the trouble!"

"And I'll do to you exactly what I did to him if you keep being a bothersome nuisance," Wesker shot back before turning his attention to his befuddled commandos, "Take him away! Hurry before more cops show up!"

Jake Cavanaugh lay on the pile of steel drums slowly stirring back into consciousness after taking a vicious one man onslaught from the enigmatic Albert Wesker, all signs of pain returning to him the second his eyes once again fluttered open.

"Wha…uhhh…" the criminal slurred trying to speak, but nothing legible coming out as his head was still spinning from the beating he had received.

"Come on boys, be "gentle" with him," a commando spoke sarcastically and through the blurriness Jake was able to make out four commandos approaching him.

"Jeez, we go through all the trouble of trying to kill the dipshit and now Wesker wants him alive? Give me a freaking break!" another spoke.

Jake felt four pairs of hands grab his aching body and lift him up, forcing him to emit a gurgled cry of pain as more blood poured from his mouth.

"So you're still awake, huh?" a third voice called out, clamping down on the criminal's injured forearm and making him grunt loudly again.

"Too bad we need you alive, or else we'd gladly kill you right now!" the final commando spoke.

Before Jake knew it, everything went dark again as he was whipped upside the head with the butt of an M-4.


	46. Interlude: The Enigmatic Mr Trent

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Author's Note: Hey everybody what's up? I know some of you are probably wondering what the hell happened to me and indeed this has been one of my longest streaks going "off the grid" without an update. Unfortunately a case of writer's block for this particular chapter and goings-on in the real world have been keeping me under the radar, but now I have come out of hiding to give you my latest installment of Darkness Arises. Enough talk, now on with the story!

Interlude: The Enigmatic Mr. Trent

Sycamore Springs was a small town located more than an hour from Raccoon City nestled in a secluded corner of Pennsylvania known to tourists as "Fairytale Range," a portion of the state known for its seemingly endless amount of lush green forests, sparkling lakes, picturesque mountains and small villages, reminding many of the Old World simplicity from when their ancestors still lived over in Europe.

The town of Sycamore Springs itself was among those many villages with a modest population of over four thousand people. Most of the outlaying city folk probably would dismiss the town as some meaningless mountain town stuck in limbo with no signs of improvement seen in ages.

From a distance the area was nothing more than a small collection of aged houses and the downtown business district was an even smaller assemblage of a few shops and restaurants. An obligatory church and school were present as well and a few miles away was a former ski resort that had once been the community's primary moneymaker, now faded and overgrown as it was reclaimed by Mother Nature.

To a group of five weary survivors it had been a godsend. A warm shower, clean clothes, full meals, sleep and friendly, living people, all had taken away the filth and fatigue of the past week, and before long, life had seemed to slowly return to normal for five battered survivors.

In the span of two regular days, Leon Kennedy, Claire Redfield, Kevin Ryman, Alyssa Ashcroft and Sherry Birkin had become virtual celebrities in the small town, which meant they received free food and drinks in the small town from the locals in return for stories about their escape from Raccoon City. Strangely enough, none of them minded opening up and relating their experiences just as long as it meant they could talk to regular, living, breathing human beings who weren't out to get them.

The story of how they made it out of Raccoon City itself wasn't as extraordinary as how they had fought to survive in the zombie-infested hellhole.

After their acquaintance Jake Cavanaugh had separated himself from the group, the five remaining survivors continued along the trail and using Kevin's knowledge of the surrounding terrain, distanced themselves from the railroad tracks and soon made their way to the nearest highway, where a kindly old farmer pulled over and offered assistance. Fortunately for them, the old man was on his way back home from a fishing expedition up north and knew of a local doctor who could get them patched up. With the survivors piling into the back of his pickup truck, the farmer drove them to Sycamore Springs and quickly they received their needed medical attention.

Spending their entire first day basically wandering the small community and becoming acquainted with everybody, both Kevin's and Leon's wounds had become infected and they were rushed to the local medical facility for emergency surgery. Sherry had complained of mysterious pains after escaping from Raccoon and was kept over for observation.

It was midday now, and both Claire and Alyssa were at the local Etta's Diner enjoying yet another meal.

Normally a health food fanatic, right now Alyssa had developed a craving for practically anything after her escape from Raccoon City and was currently in the middle of finishing up another apple pie and chocolate milkshake. Claire sat across from her having just finished another helping of dessert pancakes and took occasional sips from a rapidly cooling cup of black coffee.

To both of them, it was a miracle they were able to go through an entire meal considering the kind of evidence they had just gone over in their attempts at exposing Umbrella for what they really did.

In an old suitcase next to Alyssa sat an entire load containing proof of what really went on behind closed doors in the Umbrella Corporation: journals, notebooks, letters, faxes, photographs and numerous other items the survivors had found lying around the company's secret research facility, enough proof that could bring down the pharmaceutical giant, something the survivors intended to guard with their very lives if they had to.

The knowledge she carried such information made the investigative reporter very paranoid as well and had her looking over her shoulder at the other patrons present in the diner.

An overweight younger gentleman sat at the front counter on one of its many red leather barstools, vociferously chewing on the cheeseburger placed in front of him as soon as it had been placed before him. A few seats down sat a large, burly trucker who drank a cup of coffee and read the daily newspaper. In a booth at the very back of the room a young, artsy-looking woman sipped a cappuccino in between typing away furiously at her laptop and two booths down from her an elderly couple sat enjoying their lunch, talking about their impending 50th wedding anniversary and reminiscing about how different things were when they first met. At the payphone near the restrooms an office worker argued loudly with his wife, prompting a few worried stares from the other patrons, and nearly knocking a carpenter emerging from the men's room from his feet with one final loud scream before slamming the phone back onto the receiver and storming out of the small building.

"Wonder what the hell crawled up his ass and died?" the middle-aged man behind the counter spoke, his nametag identifying him as "Bernie."

Besides Bernie, there were two waitresses milling about named Darla and Clarice and in the kitchen were two cooks named Joe and G.G., all of whom appeared to be harmless and seemed to take very kindly to the visitors, ones who didn't seem like they would turn them over to some insidious corporation.

With the tension broken slightly by the cashier's comment, Alyssa smiled slightly and returned her attention to Claire, who had by now finished her latest cup of coffee.

"So have you managed to go over everything we've recovered yet?" she asked in a whisper loud enough for the younger woman to hear.

Claire looked around carefully before speaking, "Yeah, I read most of it back at the hotel room, figured that would be a safer place to read all of it. I gotta admit it sure takes some pretty big nerve to be able to bring that stuff out into public like that."

Alyssa smiled wider at the comment, "Hey when you're in the reporting profession you learn plenty of things along the way."

"I wouldn't doubt it," Claire chuckled in reply and then got back down to business, "So who do you think you'll be able to turn this stuff over to? We can't just take this to the authorities because how can we be certain they're not in Umbrella's pocket? We have to take them to somebody we can trust, somebody underground."

The college student made a good point, but the investigative reporter would not be deterred and leaned in closer to speak. "I know of a man named Kip Willows who has been launching some full-scale investigation regarding Umbrella's products.

"Apparently there have been some recent deaths linked to Umbrella's new Safsprin product that have been getting the company some major heat in both its Maine and Oregon branches. Coincidentally, the victims have been mostly elderly people with known allergic reactions to Penicillin and Amoxicillin. The company has been trying to claim that it includes neither in its products and that the cause of death was probably due to their advanced ages, but their families aren't buying it and that's where Mr. Willows comes in."

"I'd like to see what he's dug up so far," Claire replied looking absentmindedly out the window at the citizens and vehicles passing outside.

"I'd like to find out myself," Alyssa replied, "There was also a recent fire at a branch office in Durham, Michigan that claimed six lives. According to the official report, it was an electrical failure that caused the blaze, but Willows is trying to claim that the victims had been knocked out before the fire ever took place."

"That's terrible," Claire gasped looking down at her food, "After what we saw back in Raccoon, I wouldn't put those sickos above anything like that."

"Yeah," the reporter replied, looking down to the briefcase in which she held all the evidence gathered from Raccoon. "There will be something we can do about this mess; we will find somebody who can help us out, there has to be somebody."

"I'm sure we will," Claire replied, "that's why I want to find my brother Chris so bad. He's a former flyboy in the Air Force so he should know about combating scum like this."

Alyssa sighed deeply before revealing the next bit of information. "I just hope your brother is in the right mental state to help us out."

Noticing Claire's perplexed stare she spoke quickly, "I interviewed your brother shortly after he and his team went through that mission in the Spencer Estate. He claimed he saw a bunch of monsters like the kind we encountered in Raccoon. Naturally, at first I thought he was just blowing smoke out his ass and was either high out of his mind or suffering from serious delusions, but yet at the same time there was just this tone in his voice that seriously made me want to believe him, like he really did go through Hell and back."

"Wherever he is, I just pray that he's gotten himself back together mentally so that he will be able to help us out if we ever find him," Alyssa spoke in the most assuring tone she could, knowing that her newfound friend was worried sick over the sudden disappearance that had led her to Raccoon City.

"Hey Bernie, could ya' turn up the TV please?" the trucker called out placing the newspaper down, "Looks like they got some good stuff comin' on!"

"Sure thing," Bernie huffed, grabbing the remote and pointing it towards the battered old television anchored to the corner of the front room. The volume rose significantly and everybody fell into a dead silence as the words "Breaking News" flashed across the screen.

Claire stared straight ahead eyes glued to the television set while Alyssa turned around anxiously, knowing the headline probably involved Raccoon City. The reporter was eager to find out what news would be brought about from her former home, while the college student was more concerned about any other survivors making it out besides them.

"Good afternoon, Douglas County, this is Richard Levy bringing you an exclusive report on the horrific events unfolding in Raccoon City," the young newscaster gravely announced, the entire room now so quiet you could hear a pin drop. "In response to the massive outbreak of a lethal mystery virus in Raccoon City, one which prompted an official government quarantine by the Armed Forces, President Shrub announced at dawn today that he had authorized the launch of a nuclear missile to destroy the entire city in an attempt to contain the outbreak before it could reach out to neighboring communities. The missile has since been launched and it is official, Raccoon City has been completely destroyed. With an estimated death toll of over 100,000 residents, this has proven to be the worst disaster in the entire history of the United States."

The silence was shattered by the smashing of plates to the tiled floor as the brunette waitress Darla had dropped an entire tub of plates upon hearing the news. Muffled sobs and sighs soon followed.

"Oh my god…" Claire faintly muttered, "Raccoon City…gone forever? How could they? The government launching a nuclear weapon against its own people! How could they?" she repeated loudly.

"They did…" Alyssa trailed off, her mouth dropping open in horror as scenes of a lingering mushroom cloud replaced the grave-looking reporter, followed by computer generated graphics depicting the path of the missile colliding with the town. "It's all gone."

"There must have been people still alive in Raccoon City, people like us who survived the zombies and other monsters," Claire persisted, looking down to her plate and suddenly feeling sick to her stomach.

Alyssa said nothing in reply and could only think of groups of survivors, huddled together in their homes with weapons and food supplies gathered trying to comfort one another in their last few minutes together on this earth, that or lone, bloodied and battered survivors trudging through the burning streets searching for a means of escape, only to be vaporized into dust by the nuclear warhead.

She could then only think of the four other individuals she had escaped with. Leon Kennedy, Kevin Ryman, Sherry Birkin and Jake Cavanaugh, all individuals who could have very well shared the same fate had they chosen to barricade themselves in tiny enclosed areas to wait for a rescue that would never come, only to be engulfed by a massive explosion that would level massive skyscrapers within milliseconds.

"It's all gone…" she finally uttered, feeling very weak and on the verge of fainting.

Claire on the other hand was still kept awake by the news and the sick feeling in her stomach, attempting to process a million questions she couldn't keep to herself.

"What about the radiation and what are they going to do to contain it?" she spoke aloud, unable to contain the tears streaming freely down her cherubic face. "It could drift all throughout the state and into other states! What about the whole area? It could be hazardous for anything that goes into the area! What about Umbrella?"

The young woman stopped herself at the mention of the insidious company and her sadness turned to rage, "How could they do this to the innocent people out there?"

Alyssa's mind was trapped in a state of limbo as she could only think of Raccoon City's sudden destruction and everything that she had known for the last ten years was gone like that. She could only press her hands over her ears and shut her eyes not wanting to hear the interviews being conducted with victims' family members or bear to watch the images of Raccoon City appearing on the screen. Even if Raccoon had been reduced to a zombie infested shithole, there had always been the hope in the back of her mind that one day they would have been wiped out and she would be able to return to her beloved home.

Alas, that possibility was no more.

"…it was reported that four unmarked helicopters were seen leaving Raccoon City at the time of the blast, which is yet to be determined by federal officials," the anchor continued, "On the outskirts of Latham, a helicopter belonging to the Raccoon Fire Department touched down, containing two remaining members of the city's fire department and an undetermined amount of survivors, none of which appeared to be infected. Comments could not be received as the group was soon escorted to a nearby military decontamination facility."

Claire's head suddenly perked up and a brief joy returned at the news of other survivors managing to escape from Raccoon City alive. She could only hope they were going to be safe now that they had escaped the madhouse, but remained leery of Umbrella and what efforts that would probably be taken to silence them.

"The whereabouts of the four other choppers remain unknown at this time, but it is known that the Air Force will be maintaining a tight inspection of the city's airspace. A no-fly zone is in effect for the former Raccoon City's airspace until a full-scale investigation has been completed."

The mention of helicopters spotted leaving slightly brought Alyssa out of her limbo, but only raised her concerns as she feared for the safety of the survivors onboard and what would happen to them.

Umbrella would surely be out to get them, big companies always went after people who knew too much in the movies and judging by what she had seen in the underground research facility, she had her doubts the real world would be much different, especially when a company had as much to lose as Umbrella.

As quickly as the story of Raccoon City ended, another piece of breaking news came up as the reporter was handed another sheaf of papers by an unseen production assistant.

"This just in, we have two other major stories popping up around the Douglas and Timber County areas," Richard Levy reported, again drawing everybody's attention back to the television set.

"Apparently the town of Springvale, 30 miles west of Raccoon City, has been placed under quarantine by the National Guard as well."

The scene switched from the newsroom to a camera on the road leading into Springvale, where several National Guard A.P.C.'s, Hummers and supply trucks drove through a wooden gate erected by the Guardsmen only to have it shut behind them. Moving closer, the camera was stopped as two troopers clad in N.B.C. gear stepped in the way and pushed the cameraman back, knocking out the signal.

A voiceover accompanied the footage, "According to citizens from the nearby township of LaSalle, a series of gunshots and explosions could be heard in the midday hours as if a full-scale terrorist attack were taking place. Numerous attempts at telephonic and electronic communication were made throughout the day, only to be met with no response, prompting National Guard intervention. PNN news crews were not permitted inside the city limits, adding to further speculations of a terrorist attack. We will keep you updated on this story as it progresses."

Claire and Alyssa both looked to one another in sheer horror knowing that as close as Springvale was to Raccoon City, whatever went down there could not have been the result of a "terrorist attack."

(A/N: I know in previous chapters I might have referred to the county Raccoon City was located in as "Raccoon County," but have now changed it based on what I saw in a file from "Outbreak: File 2" where they mention something about a Douglas County Penitentiary, so henceforth Raccoon City will be located in Douglas County in this story.)

"In additional breaking news, it is confirmed that there was recently a shootout in the city of Maple, one involving definite police casualties," Richard Levy continued as the scene changed to a train yard where police officers could be seen rolling strands of yellow police tape and paramedics pushed gurneys containing covered bodies into ambulances while more officers chatted with F.B.I. agents on the scene.

"At approximately four o'clock yesterday afternoon, a series of gunshots and explosions emanated from the Maple train yard in the city's industrial district, eventually spilling over into a nearby Pan-Lantic construction site raising speculation of another terrorist attack and prompting immediate police intervention. Several eyewitnesses were on-hand to provide details of the account."

A group of filthy, unkempt hobos appeared on the screen, almost looking comical doubting they would be taken seriously by the thousands of viewers watching the back home.

"Yeah man, we just heard all these loud pops and booms and the next thing you know, this kid in black appeared being chased by all these other freaks in black!" a middle-aged man wearing a cap and stained Pittsburgh Steelers jacket spoke hurriedly.

"Yeah, they all looked like aliens!" a Hispanic woman wearing a stocking cap and filthy green overcoat added, "They were firing at this vampire-looking man in black and he shot one of them and he disappeared into thin air!"

"Yeah, thin freaking air!" an African-American with a walking stick blurted out, "He seriously shot the guy and he dissolved into nothing! No joke, it seriously happened!" the man continued, the other bums nodding eagerly in unison.

A thin construction worker then appeared with several co-workers standing in the background.

"We were on our break when we heard a bunch of explosions from the train yard and thought that a tank had ruptured or something, but then we heard the gunfire and next thing we know, all these hobos started running out and then out came this kid in black. We asked what was going on, but he didn't respond and next thing you know, we've got all these freaks in black shooting at us."

Another worker then spoke up, "Yeah, they looked like they were trying to get the guy, but one of them missed and hit our co-worker Beau, murdered him in cold blood!"

A man in a butcher's apron then followed in sequence, "I was just tending to my shop when I saw some weird-looking man in black being chased by all these freaks that didn't make any sound at all. I don't know what was up, but it all looked like they were trying to kill him. Something was seriously going down in this city."

The scene then switched to some citizens gathered around the cordoned off gates to the construction site, where several officers stood guard as a hearse exited the premises.

"We don't know what was going down, but we saw this guy running through the construction site from our office building and next thing we know, the cops show up to arrest him and they all get shot down by these men in black," a younger man in a white dress shirt and red tie spoke, "I don't know if this guy was working with them or not and they came to pick him up, but all I know is they murdered a bunch of cops."

Returning to the newsroom, a composite sketch then appeared on the screen, one that made Alyssa and Claire nearly jump out of their booth.

"The suspect was described as a Caucasian male in his early-to-mid 20's with short black hair, goatee and tanned complexion. He was seen wearing a black trench coat with a black t-shirt and black cargo pants underneath. Upon obtaining a composite sketch of the criminal the F.B.I. was alerted, believing the mysterious assailant to be one Jacob Cavanaugh, better known in crime circles as "The Red Dragon."

In another flash the scene shifted back to outside the construction site, where a man in his early 30's with short reddish-blonde hair and wearing a black suit with an F.B.I. badge stood.

"Joining us now is F.B.I. Special Agent Griffin Anderson who was first on the scene and has been following the case since the beginning. Agent Anderson, what do you have to report for us?" Richard asked.

"Thank you Richard," Agent Anderson replied, "As you've just stated Jacob Cavanaugh has been spotted in Maple and was believed to be involved in some recent terrorist activity. In regards to the reports of gunfire and explosions, we've been canvassing the city train yards and much of the Bronwyn district and have come across several civilian casualties and much property damage indicating a major battle had taken place there. Whether Mr. Cavanaugh was responsible for these killings or if he acted as part of a large group is unknown, but it was confirmed he was indeed present at the site of a full-scale massacre of a police S.W.A.T. team and that matter we are taking very seriously. As of right now, the entire city of Maple has been placed under lockdown and the F.B.I. is working in full cooperation with local law enforcement to help bring this wanted fugitive to justice."

"Thank you Agent Anderson," Richard Levy replied and a wanted poster of Jake Cavanaugh listing his vital statistics soon took up the screen. "We are now showing you the image of wanted fugitive Jacob Cavanaugh, last spotted in the Maple area. He is considered armed and extremely dangerous. Do not, and repeat, do not approach him under any circumstances. If spotted, you are to contact your local law enforcement agency immediately."

Once again Claire and Alyssa looked directly at each other not knowing what to say. One of the very individuals they had escaped from Raccoon City with was now suspected of massacring an entire platoon of S.W.A.T. officers and had mysteriously vanished. The only question they could ask themselves is was it really him who killed all of those cops?

The news report featured testimonies from witnesses who claimed to have seen an army of black-clad men chasing after him. Could those men have been some sort of hit squad sent after him?

Claire leaned in towards Alyssa and looked around carefully before whispering to her, "Do you think Umbrella sent people after him?"

Mentioning Umbrella in that context in a public place made Alyssa very nervous fearing that they might have an employee somewhere keeping a close eye on them or have some device listening in on their conversation. Whatever the circumstances were, she didn't want to risk it in a public place and endanger any more civilians, she wanted to get to their injured counterparts and inform them of what had just happened and then get out of there.

The reporter brought a finger to her lips silently motioning for Claire to be quiet and rose to her feet grabbing her briefcase, "Come on, we're going to have to discuss that elsewhere. Right now, I say we get to the guys and let them know what's going on."

Claire was initially confused by Alyssa's reaction, but then figured out what she had in mind and carefully looked around before getting up and following her companion out the front door and back into the streets.

Walking down the streets in midday, the streets of Sycamore Springs were mostly empty as most citizens were away at their jobs, giving the two women plenty of time alone. Alyssa walked towards the town's small medical facility, which was only two blocks away, at a frantic pace pumping her arms and legs as fast as she could. Claire struggled to keep up with her, worried her friend was going to attract unwanted attention from the locals.

"Alyssa, slow down will you!" Claire half-shouted to the reporter jogging up alongside of her trying to match her pace.

"Claire, we've gotta get to Leon, Kevin and Sherry as fast as possible," the reporter loudly whispered, "Umbrella must've gotten to Jake and they could be coming after us at any minute. We need to get them and get out of here as fast as we can before somebody can tip off the bastards at the nearest Umbrella outpost and get them on our trails again!"

"How can we be certain if those "men in black" were from Umbrella? Maybe somebody else was out to get Jake too," Claire spoke with a chill running down her spine. Battling Umbrella would be a hard enough task, but another faction entering the picture, which was something none of them needed after what they had endured.

The duo walked further in silence, Claire befuddled by her friend not responding.

"Is something wrong?" she asked Alyssa, who continued marching now at a quickened pace, "Please tell me what's going on!"

"I don't know, but I think we're being followed!" the investigative reporter loudly whispered back, waving her head around wildly trying to find any vehicles or individuals that could be on their tail. "Stupid me left my fucking gun back in the hotel room!" she grumbled wishing desperately for a firearm or any kind of weapon right now.

Claire too was now wildly afraid, herself unarmed in a foreign area with innocent locals nearby. Trying to keep her breathing in check, she looked around nervously walking alongside the reporter and could only think of reaching the medical facility where her wounded friends lay in wait.

Both of them wanted to break into a run, but didn't want to raise any unnecessary suspicion among those who might be watching them from the surrounding buildings and were thankful nobody was on the street to see them in their current state of panic.

"Do you think it would be safe to run now?" Claire asked, her voice almost quivering like she was starting to feel afraid of her own shadow.

"Shh! Be quiet!" Alyssa blurted out, quickly silencing herself as she moved forth pumping her arms quickly.

"But we have to get there as fast as we can!" the younger woman loudly whispered back and was about to get another warning from the reporter when the squealing of tires suddenly rang out from behind them.

"Oh-" Alyssa tried to shout as she turned around to find a black limousine with unmarked license plates suddenly charge at them from a side alley they had been totally unaware of.

Neither woman had time to turn around and run as the limo sped and swerved to a halt in front of them, cutting off their escape. Like lightning, four mysterious men in black suits emerged from the back of the limo and pulled out guns, grabbing both women around their mouths and tossing them into the back of the limo, shepherding them off to an unknown location.

"Oh god, what's going on here?" Alyssa shouted as she continued to struggle with the two suited men who had pulled her into the limo, jumping more frantically as she heard the clicking of the doors locking and the squealing of tires beneath them, "Let us go you bastards!"

Claire on the other hand sat in complete silence, afraid to make a sound as the two men who grabbed her still held on tight, like they could break both her arms at any given second. Knowing she was unarmed and outnumbered, she could only sit back and observe her surroundings, finding herself in the cramped quarters of a customized limousine.

At the front of the sitting area beneath the privacy shade was a small plasma screen television which was turned off at the moment and next to it was a state-of-the-art GPS tracking device currently switched on and showing their vehicle moving down a street and rounding a corner. Beneath a window near where Alyssa was seated was a small refrigerator and next to it a wine rack with various bottles of different color and brand. The seats both women and their captors sat on connected with a larger seat at the end, which looked like it could fold out to become a bed and on it was a sleek black laptop computer which held numerous functions for its owner.

Seated at the back of the sitting area was the possible owner himself, a man whose presence indicated he was of higher standing than his four subordinates. He was a middle-aged man with slicked back dark hair and wore an expensive black suit, with a white dress shirt underneath and dark red tie. Claire could tell that he was getting ready to speak and waiting for Alyssa to quiet down before making his presence felt.

It took a few more minutes and tougher coercion before Alyssa finally settled down and with it the man cleared his throat before speaking.

"Hello ladies, I trust you will behave now as I hold the key to your very survival, and your very chances for revenge," the man spoke in a smooth, cultured Oxford English accent, smiling almost smugly as he looked back and forth to both women.

"Who are you and just what the hell are you saying?" Alyssa snapped, lunging forward again, but held in place by the two henchmen.

"Where are you taking us? Please, tell us?" Claire spoke up in a more pleading tone, hoping to sound less forceful than her colleague.

The man appeared unafraid of their outbursts and sat in silence before speaking up again, "Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself, I am called Trent, and I would appreciate it if you were kind enough to address me in that manner as well."

"Okay, Mr. Trent," Alyssa spoke uttering the man's name in an undisguised sarcastic tone, "Tell us what you want with us and where you're taking us! How the hell can we be certain that you're not another one of Umbrella's lapdogs coming to finish what they couldn't?"

"Patience Ms. Ashcroft," Trent spoke, rousing a worried stare of disbelief from the reporter. The enigmatic gentleman understood her facial expression and spoke up again, "How I know your name you will know within due time. I know much about you, as do I your companion Ms. Redfield and the four other individuals you escaped from Raccoon City with," he continued with Claire now looking on in horror.

"You needn't fear me ladies for I mean you no harm. I apologize for my associates' behavior, but I simply cannot take any chances. I know both of you are in a state of heightened awareness and I didn't know if either one of you was armed or not, but now that I know you are of little threat," Trent stopped in mid-sentence and gestured for his men. With it, they released their grips on both women.

"Alright, if you're not out to kill us, then what the hell is going on," Alyssa again demanded.

"Getting down to business, I come to both of you to make a proposition," he spoke leaning forward slightly to let them know he was serious. "I come to you suffering a similar predicament, one that will require help from the outside, help from individuals such as yourselves who have experienced the horror firsthand and lived to tell about it."

"Go on," Alyssa spoke cautiously, shooting a quick, uneasy glance over to Claire, who had remained silent for much of the conversation.

"Very well, if you must know, it was through a series of contacts and surveillance footage from Raccoon City itself how I learned of your identities," Trent explained, "I literally watched from the sidelines as you battled your way through that research outpost, an outpost owned by Umbrella Incorporated. Your lives as you know them have been shattered.

"Umbrella has ruined many lives and not just yours. Action must be taken against them and the time is now, which is where you and your friends shall come into play," Trent spoke pointing at each woman, "I want you to work for me in my personal campaign against them."

Alyssa and Claire looked to each other uneasily, not knowing if this man was for real or not. He sure talked a good game, but how could they be certain that he was genuinely on their side and not just some plant sent by Umbrella to track them down and kill them?

"But what would we have to do?" Claire blurted out, causing Alyssa to gesture towards her in silent protest.

Trent first looked to Claire and then over to Alyssa before speaking up, "I have formed intricate plans for this campaign and now I will fill you in on what I can."

The limousine sped forth towards the town's medical facility while Trent informed the two women of his plans. Through the use of superior intellect and a smooth, salesman-like charisma, the mysterious man was able to present his proposal to the two women in a direct, concise manner that left both of them in awe and really doubting if they should reject his offer, but still they maintained a level of caution that they hoped would help them to make the right decision in the end.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Aw man, it looks like the Grizzlies beat the Lone Stars!" Kevin bellowed sarcastically as he lay back in his hospital bed and switched the channel from a sport broadcast to a re-run of his favorite old-time TV series "Beers."

"Worse could've happened," Leon added from the bed next to him as he reached for a mug filled with some Loco Cola, carefully not to further aggravate his mended gunshot wound.

The two now former R.P.D. officers shared a room in the small Sycamore Springs Medical Facility, where they both were recovering after receiving emergency surgery for their injuries sustained back in Raccoon. Both men were very lucky to be alive and even more thankful they were able to receive more adequate medical treatment aside from the rudimentary antiseptic and bandages they received while trying to fight their way out of the nightmare city.

Kevin ignored his friend's comment and laughed hysterically at a scene where some of the main characters from "Beers" were attempting to escape from some irate dancers in a strip club, so hard he had to stop midway through to hold himself. The older officer's injuries flared up and he cursed himself as the pain wracked through his body. "Gah! Damn!" he grunted loudly falling back onto the softness of his pillows.

It was Leon's turn to do the ignoring now as he looked out the nearby window at the bare streets, spying the occasional car or streetwalker passing by. "I hope the girls get here soon," he thought to himself, wanting to get out of there whenever he could. Where he would go from here was still unknown, but he hoped it was a place where he could be safe in case Umbrella decided to send some of their hit squads after him.

A loud knock suddenly came from the door, startling both men from their thoughts.

Turning towards the entrance, both men watched as an attractive young brunette nurse named Christina walked in, holding little Sherry Birkin by the hand.

"Hey guys, somebody really wanted to see you," the young nurse giggled as she led the pre-teen girl over to a chair in between the two ex-officers' beds.

Out of the three of them, Sherry had received the least damage, but had sustained some bruises and cuts from their time in Raccoon. The doctors wanted to keep a close eye on her and appeared to have treated her well, giving her a new outfit in addition to treating her wounds, consisting of a pink and white pullover sweatshirt, red t-shirt and new pair of blue jeans.

"No problem Chrissy," Kevin chimed, "Thanks for keeping an eye on her, she really needed it."

"I did the best for her that I could," Christina smiled back and then leaned over the older officer, "How are your wounds doing? Think you might need your bandages changed or maybe some more painkillers?"

"Heck no," Kevin half-shouted back, "You inject any more of those into me I'm gonna be higher than a space shuttle. I doubt my buddy here would wanna see my head suddenly detach from the rest of my body and float out the window," he laughed looking over again to Leon, whom the nurse was now tending to.

"And what about you Officer Kennedy, how are you today?" Christina asked looking closely at his bandaged shoulder to make sure his newest wrapping was held down tight.

"Couldn't be better," the rookie spoke forcing a smile, "Just thankful to be in a nice warm bed and have some Loco Cola waiting for me," he said proudly raising his mug of Loco Cola into the air.

"Glad to hear that," she smiled back, "If you need anything please let me know. Okay? Talk to you later!" the nurse called out and exited the room.

As soon as the young woman was out of earshot, Kevin broke down into a hearty laughter, "I think she likes you man, you'd best try hitting that while it's young and ripe!"

Leon only scowled at his friend's lack of maturity, especially around a young girl who didn't need to be hearing such things. "Do you mind? I really don't think Sherry needs to be hearing this! Save it for when we're out of here."

"Aw c'mon man!" Kevin chuckled, "After what you've been through I think you'd at least deserve some "T.L.C." if you know what I mean."

"We barely survive a city crawling with legions of the living dead and all you can think about is sex. I don't know about you Kevin," Leon sighed shaking his head, but suddenly stopped once he realized he had said the words "living dead" in front of Sherry. Looking down to her, the young girl looked back to him wide-eyed, knowing he had struck a vital nerve.

"I'm sorry sweetie, I really shouldn't have said that," he said taking her hand into his.

"It's ok Leon," she replied innocently, "I know those bad things are gone now that we've made it out of that place. You, Claire, Kevin, Alyssa and Jake got rid of them all. They won't be coming back."

"You're right," Leon said lying back in bed, hoping what he said was right. He knew deep down that the zombies were gone, but still he would have to deal with Umbrella itself to make sure they never came back.

"Well seriously, after what happened you're going to have to do something to get your mind off of things," Kevin continued looking away from the TV as commercials came on.

"We can start by not even mentioning what happened," Leon retorted, "the more you mention it the more it will remain engrained in our memories for!" he spoke raising his voice a little, but settled down remembering that Sherry was still present.

"Okay, okay sorry! Sheesh!" Kevin said protectively throwing his hands into the air, "I was just trying to lighten the mood a little, that's all."

Leon's temperament softened a little at his friend's apology. Sure he could understand that Kevin probably wanted to lighten the mood a little, but he was one of those types who liked to go overboard and in the process, would unwittingly offend others.

"Shouldn't be so uptight Kennedy," Leon thought to himself, "Much worse could've happened. Hell, you ought to be thankful you're still around to joke around with one of your closest friends, let alone having a close friend still around to joke with."

Another knock came from the door and the three occupants turned to see two familiar faces there to see them.

"Claire!" Sherry called out as her older friend appeared in the doorway, followed closely by Alyssa. The young girl quickly ran over to the brunette-haired woman and threw her arms around the girl's waist.

"Glad to see you ladies finally decided to join us," Kevin called out as Alyssa approached him and placed a hand on his good shoulder, careful not to touch any place he was injured.

Claire quickly walked over by Leon and took the seat Sherry had once occupied, "Hey there, how are you doing?"

"I'm doing alright," the former rookie replied, "they managed to get the bullet out and are hoping I could be discharged within a few days. Kevin on the other hand, he got injured more severely than I did, so they might want him around for a few extra days."

"Oh…" Claire suddenly trailed off, like someone had just flipped the switch on her mind.

"Are you alright?" Leon asked in a worried manner, looking over and noticing Alyssa looking off in the distance like something was seriously bother her. In fact, the normally loud and argumentative reporter hadn't spoken a single word since entering the hospital room. Something was up and these two women were saying less than they were willing to reveal. Looking around cautiously, the young man pulled his companion closer to him.

"Is something going on?" he whispered into her ear, "Is Umbrella onto us? Oh god, please tell me they didn't find us here in Sycamore Springs."

"Leon, it's okay, really," Claire replied, "We might have some help after all."

The former cop was now confused, "What? What is going on here? You didn't rat us out did you? Who is this help and what do they want from us?"

"I believe that is for me to answer Mr. Kennedy," a new voice called out, one rich with culture and sophistication.

The five survivors looked to the doorway to see a new individual standing quietly before them, a middle-aged dark-haired man in a fancy black suit. Whoever he was, he appeared to be someone of high authority, like a government agent perhaps or something.

"Who are you?" Kevin called out, but was silenced by the nameless man pressing a finger to his lips and then looking around to make sure nobody was out in the hall. The man quietly shut the door behind him and walked to the center of the room so he stood before all of the survivors.

"It appears nobody followed us over here so now I will make my introduction," the man spoke with an English accent, "I am Trent and I am fully aware of the ordeal you have gone through officers."

"Okay, just who do you think you are Trent and what do you want with us?" Kevin demanded trying to sit up in bed, but was held back by Alyssa.

"Let him speak," she replied and kept her hand on his good shoulder.

"Thank you Ms. Ashcroft and now if I may continue," Trent spoke relaxing a bit, "Like I've just said, I am aware of the situation the five of you have just gone through…six if you wish to count your absent friend Mr. Cavanaugh. By now you are aware of the nature of Umbrella, Inc.'s true activities and for sure your lives are in danger as you each know too much for their liking. I myself have my own issues with the company and if you wish to cooperate with me, I may be able to lend my own hand in your newfound mission."

Kevin and Leon looked to each other and then to their two adult female companions, who gave them assuring glances that they had placed their trust in this mysterious man. The two men then looked back to Mr. Trent, standing calm and collected as he waited patiently to continue with his proposal.

"Okay, just what can you do for us?" Leon asked, "You'd better not be fooling around with us, Trent. This is a serious matter where hundreds of innocent lives are at stake and we don't need any more empty promises thrown our way after everything we've had to endure over the past few days."

Trent nodded slightly, knowing that the people before him had just been through a lot and wouldn't take too kindly to being approached by a mysterious man who claimed he could help them. He knew he would have to work hard to gain their trust and it was a task he was willing to pursue.

"I assure you Mr. Kennedy, you have nothing to fear," Trent continued, "I can give you something you desire the most right now, crucial information that could give you the edge in the battle against your respective adversary.

For the next few hours, the enigmatic Mr. Trent would spend his time presenting his proposal to the five survivors, doing what he could to gain their trust and their alliance. He had his own axe to grind with Umbrella and was in the process of gathering as many allies as he could, knowing an oncoming war was on the horizon, a war he was preparing to win.

He had already amassed a few allies in his plot and now he was readying himself to gain a few more.

A/N: Like Douglas McArthur once said "I shall return" and indeed I have. It took me nearly 3 months to come out with this new chapter and indeed I went through quite a mind fuck trying to come up with the ideas for this new chapter, but in the end I soldiered on and here I am now. Indeed I have chosen to cross over this fic with the actual Resident Evil novels and I figured another interlude was the best way to introduce Trent to the DA masses. I know a lot of you are probably screaming your brains out wanting Jake back; well I assure you he WILL be back for the next chapter.

On an additional note, I have posted a new fic on this site under the Street Fighter forum called "The Chosen Ones." I have decided to include Jake Cavanaugh in that fic because I figured I put so much work into him that I wanted to expand upon him and introduce him to a completely different group of fans as well. Just like this fic, he will be kicking butt as well. Well that's all I have to say and until then read and review!


	47. Chapter 41: Horrors of the Past

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Author's Note: Hello loyal viewers, just letting all of you know that for this next chapter I will be taking a sort of different, experimental approach. For this next chapter I am going to try a combination of first and third person perspective storytelling. To indicate when I am telling in first person perspective, I will type in italics _just like this so you know it is being told through the eyes of Jake himself, _other than that everything else will be typed normally. I am expecting that this next chapter will probably be pretty epic as I have a lot of ground to cover and so much to explain.

So have your daily meals nearby and get the bedpans out because you'll probably be here quite a while for this next chapter, now on with the story!!!

Chapter 41: Horrors of the Past

From out of nowhere, a wave of pain assailed him from the abyss he lay dormant in, forcing him to convulse. The pain demanded his attention, letting him know it owned his every waking thought and would not stop until it had pried him from his slumber.

A final invisible punch of pain rang out and like a shot of adrenaline; Jake Cavanaugh was jolted awake in a cold sweat.

"Wesker!" he shouted aloud, the last thing he remembered being his confrontation with Albert Wesker, the bastard beating him to a bloody pulp.

Coming to grips he looked around expecting to find himself back at the construction site or locked away in some small cell, but strangely he was in neither location.

_"What the hell gives? The last time I recall, that slimy bastard was kicking my ass all over some construction site in Maple, but where the hell am I now?_

Lying on some wet concrete beneath him, the career criminal now found himself in a graffiti-lined back alley surrounded by rusty dumpsters, broken down boxes, discarded furniture, a few smashed TV sets and plenty of trashcans overflowing with garbage, creating a stench that reminded him much of the zombies. A few stray cats wandered about in search of food, all appearing normal and of no cause for concern.

_"Did Wesker and his boys just drop me off here like yesterday's trash? I thought those fuckers were out to kill me after I rejected Mr. Asshole's "generous proposal" to become his personal bitch for life."_

Thinking of the insidious H.C.F. squad leader suddenly made the criminal remember the injuries inflicted upon him. Last he could recall, the seeming superhuman villain had broken a few bones in his left forearm and fractured three of his ribs. Quickly feeling along his left arm he felt nothing broken and felt his chest for any injuries, but again nothing. Strangely, he didn't feel any pain at all, nor could he feel any blood dripping down his face.

"What the hell?" he muttered aloud. Feeling around for his weapons he found nothing and was still dressed in his regular clothes, until he opened his shirt and found something drastically different.

He was wearing his beloved Red Dragon t-shirt. Last he recalled he had used it to strangle one of those troopers hunting him down back at the Umbrella research outpost. Furthermore, it was good as new and not the tattered wreck it was when he last saw it.

"What the hell is going on here?" he asked himself aloud as he stood up and breathed full, uninhibited breaths. "I'm going to find out what's going on right now," he declared as he made a dominant stride towards the nearest exit. When he finally reached that exit, he was stopped dead in his tracks and could only stare ahead in wide-eyed awe.

"How the hell did I get back here?" he muttered staring ahead and looking up towards a tall Victorian structure he knew all too well that had once been a mansion, but now had a sign over the front set of double doors bearing the words "Somerset City Hall."

Jake could not believe it at all, he had somehow found his way back to his hometown of Somerset, California, just the exact way he had left it years ago.

The ringing of a bell snapped him out of his reverie and he looked down to find a delivery boy passing him on a bicycle. Looking around everybody else seemed to be going about their daily business as numerous townspeople passed him by without acknowledging his presence. Not knowing if they could even see him or not, he moved about going with the flow and found himself in a hazy trance as he moved down the street noticing the numerous shops and other locations from his childhood.

_"Back home in Somerset. I see hardly anything has changed since I've been gone, but still the question is how?"_

The question lingered strongly in his mind, but yet he couldn't help be feel the nostalgia rushing back to him like the floodgates had opened, especially when he noticed an ivory building with a large steaming cup of coffee atop it called "Cost-A-Latte and the black and gray building next to it that almost resembled a medieval castle with the sliding gate erected over the front door and the elaborate green dragon statue above it. All he could think was that he was being taken on a stroll down Memory Lane.

_"There's the coffee shop where the guys and I would hang out after school and check out the babes during my high school years and right next to it, the Dragon's Dungeon comic book shop I used to blow my allowance on when I was a kid. Then there's Ragetti's, old lady Ragetti used to give me free strombolis all the time, saying that I reminded her of her dead son. Pet U with all the dogs I used to check out, wanting one of my own, but my asshole father wouldn't allow it. Old Dewey's, the Uni-Plex, the SubUrban that one hot girl from Atherton used to work at, Record Junkie, Cyberland Arcade, the skating park…Damn I could go on forever."_

"Jake, little Jake Cavanaugh is that you?" a gruff, yet friendly old voice called out, one that made the criminal come to a sudden halt. It was a voice he shouldn't be able to hear.

Turning around, the criminal who was hardly fazed by anything suddenly paled as if he were seeing a ghost. That's because he really was seeing one.

"Boy, you sure have grown!" an old man in a blue plumber's outfit called out, "Seems just like yesterday you were only up to me hip, now look at cha'!" he chuckled heartily.

"U…U…Uncle…Uncle Larry…" the criminal stammered as he stared at the old man before him and took a step in his direction. Just as he was reaching out to touch the man before him, a series of gunshots rang out and in a flash the environment suddenly changed around him.

What had been a lively atmosphere on a nice sunny day just seconds before had suddenly turned into a nighttime street where a frightened crowd had gathered around the plumbing supply store owned and operated by Uncle Larry. On the ground before him, his Uncle Larry lay prostrate after taking five bullets to the chest. The bright flashing of red and blue police lights suddenly blinded the criminal and he was forced to step back as a police officer approached him.

"Sorry son, you've gotta step back now. The paramedics will be here at any second," the officer explained taking him by the shoulder and leading him back towards the crowd.

Just as Jake was about to protest he raised a hand, but instead of finding the muscular gloved hand of an adult, he found the slender hand of a child.

"What the?" he asked aloud staring down at his hand, but instead of his low adult timbre, he spoke with the high pitch of a child. Whatever was going on, he had found himself transformed into a young child again. It suddenly hit him that he was 10 years old when Uncle Larry was murdered and he had been there to find his body.

The wail of an ambulance broke through the air and everybody stepped back to allow room for the approaching ambulance. Two paramedics leapt from the back and rushed over to the fallen man with their kits ready, but it was too late.

_"Uncle Larry, at least that's what I called him. He wasn't really my uncle to tell the truth, just a close friend of my grandpa's, close enough to be considered a family member though. He always looked out for me when no one else was around and let me hang out at his shop to hide from all the bullies that used to give me shit. Then one day, some punk robbed him and shot him to death, they never caught the bastard who did it."_

The world rippled around Jake and he was no longer standing in front of Uncle Larry's plumbing supply shop, but in front of the one place he had hoped he would never again have to visit. He was now standing outside a two-story white house with green shutters and a small rose garden out front surrounded by a white picket fence.

"My old home," he muttered to himself, "What the hell am I doing here?"

With the shatter of glass and the blink of an eye, Jake now stood in a small bedroom where a two-person bed sat against the western wall and all of the walls were covered by posters of the most popular bands of the day as well as an elaborate butterfly collection hanging on the wall to his right, which made him instantly recognize where he was. He was in his older sister Rose's bedroom and his attention was diverted towards the door.

In front of him a girl of thirteen years stood in her nightgown with her ear against the door, listening intently to the sound of people shouting and stuff being thrown. Behind her, a little dark-haired boy of five years hid behind a chair holding a year old infant in his arms and next to him a three year old girl sat with her hands over her ears and tears streaming down her face.

Standing behind the older girl was another dark-haired boy, one clad in G.I. JOE pajamas who stared at the door almost in a trance-like state. It seemed as if he was visibly trembling like he wanted to break down and had tears forming in the corners of his eyes, but yet he remained stoic. It was Jake himself at seven years of age, even back then he was mentally stronger than most boys his own age.

Jake stood quietly in the background, but yet he already seemed invisible to the small children sharing the room with him. It was almost as if he was a specter stuck in the background forced to watch his life replayed before him like an old family movie.

"Shh, everybody keep quiet!" the teenage girl loudly whispered to her siblings and then looked back to the child form of Jake, "Jakey quick, hid behind my bed! Do it!" she ordered. Without looking back she opened the door as quietly as she could and with it the screams from outside finally molded into words.

"You'd better be damn proud of yourself you lousy piece of shit!" an older masculine voice boomed, one Jake knew all too well and wished he would never have to hear again. "Didn't you even think about what you were doing? You nearly fucking killed that kid! His parents are going to be suing the pants off us for what you did! What the hell is wrong with you? You're nothing but a goddamned fucking troublemaker! Have been ever since you were a small child," the voice faded, one the criminal often recalled followed by the scent of alcohol.

"Steven please leave him alone, he's already had enough!" a feminine voice sobbed in the background. The sound of a hand striking a face rang out followed by the woman's pained screams.

"Mom…" Jake muttered to himself, wanting to go out there and murder that abusive bastard all over again.

"You shut the hell up Mary, ain't no woman going to tell me how to discipline my own juvenile delinquent of a kid!" the man screamed with enough force to nearly shake the building from its foundation. "I should be asking what the hell is wrong with you too! You defend that hoodlum like he did something minor, hell you've been defending that no good punk all his life! He nearly fucking killed a kid from his school today! He's probably going to be sent away to a reform school for God knows how many years!"

"Why don't you leave her alone you fucking worthless drunk!" another male voice called out, this one of a teenaged male. The pounding of feet against the wooden floor rang out, followed by more slaps and then the crash of a coffee table being overturned.

"Ryan!" Jake shouted his older brother's name and tried to move, but couldn't. He had been rooted to the floor and strained himself to move, only to be met by an unbearable pain that made him want to buckle over, but yet he couldn't fall down.

"Don't you backtalk me you piece of shit! It's you who has brought shame upon our family's name ever since the day you were born!" the older man screamed again followed by more crashing noises and then a long period of silence.

"I…I-I-Is it…over?" the younger boy whimpered peeking his head out from behind the chair.

From the corner of his eye, Jake could see his younger self rise up from behind the bed. He wanted to scream at him not to do it, but realized his efforts were futile. The adult criminal was nothing more than a specter, a shadow in an already darkened room, neither to be seen nor heard.

A thunderous crack rang out as the door was kicked from its hinges, knocking the teenaged girl back and sending the other kids screaming from the room, narrowly avoiding the hulking figure that now stood in the doorway.

Looking at the man who stood before him was almost like looking into a mirror. The man had Jake's exact height and build (although lacking the musculature of the criminal) and through the face he looked just like him, except he had a mustache.

Little Jake was the only person in sight right now and the older man needed to vent his drunken frustrations upon some unfortunate victim, one who stood before him. Grunting angrily, the man removed his belt and charged for the small child.

"Dad no!" the girl sobbed reaching out helplessly towards her father and little brother.

The sight of his hulking father lumbering drunkenly towards him finally made the child version of Jake's emotions kick in and he began to scream wildly.

"Daddy no!!!"

Everything went black and the only thing heard was the career criminal's own heavy breathing. From out of the darkness a police car suddenly appeared before Jake and in the back was his brother Ryan, a bloodied mess after an altercation with their father.

_"Home sweet home? Yeah fucking right! I remember growing up in that house alright, every day was Hell for my siblings and me. Not a single night went by where that ogre didn't come home in a drunken stupor ready to kill the first thing he saw. Me, my mom, my siblings…nobody was safe from his tirade. I swear, my brother Ryan and I bore the brunt of it just because he thought we were a couple of nobody degenerates who would never amount to anything._

_"I still remember that night very well when this happened. My older brother was 16 and he got expelled from school because he nearly killed another kid in a scuffle gone too far. Out of all of us, Ryan was the only one who had the guts to stand up to "Dad" and I swear he must've gotten his ass beaten within an inch of his life that night. When the cops finally did show up, my father claimed that Ryan attacked him first and was able to get him arrested just because he tried to defend himself. With what went on earlier in the day, the poor bastard didn't make a very believable victim either._

_"Man, I fucking hated my father growing up. A good feeling to say that about your own father isn't it? Bullshit! Hell, one night my mother was tending to my wounds after one of his rampages and she even admitted that she didn't love him any more after some of the crap he pulled, but was too frightened to leave him. Heh, quite the great feeling to know your parents don't even love each other, isn't it? Makes you feel like you're nothing more than a mistake._

_"My dad fought in Vietnam and my uncle once told me of some of the stuff he endured over there, stuff he said no living man should ever have to undergo. Those closest to him think he was forever changed by what he experienced over there and perhaps only drank in an attempt to dull the pain. All the fucker ever did was create more pain, and it wasn't against some Viet Cong guerillas, rather his own flesh and blood._

_"Damn it, why couldn't I just have a normal father like all the other kids had? One who would take me to the park and play ball with me rather than spend all his time either passed out on the couch or beating the shit out of his own kids? That bastard would've given two fucks less if his own child was lying out in the gutter freezing to death. I must've done something pretty terrible to him in order to be treating with such disdain. What it is, I'll never know."_

Another ripple effect occurred and he now found himself in another room that was familiar to him as a child, a room that carried much history with what it contained.

"Grandpa's trophy room?" he muttered as he stared at the trinkets surrounding him, remembering the stories told to him by his grandfather when he was a curious child just learning about the world around him.

To his immediate right was a finely crafted oak bookcase lined with worn hardcover books that looked more than a hundred years old and sitting atop it, busts of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, both crafted by Jake's grandfather, an ardent patriot and history buff.

Next to the bookshelf stood an old globe that looked like it belonged on a pirate ship and next to it, a grandfather clock and desk that were both probably crafted from the same tree as the bookshelf. Several pictures were placed on the desk, all pictures of Jake, his siblings and other relatives in their childhood and with them several family group photos. A picture of Jake's grandmother taken in the 1930's stood prominently as did several pictures of his grandfather posing with his war buddies from his time in the service.

On the wall above the desk, and all throughout the room, were numerous plaques, trophies, certificates, medals, patches and even a photograph of his young war hero grandfather posing with then-President Harry S Truman. Everything stood as a testament to his heroism.

The heads of a deer, an antelope, upper torso of a North American Black Bear and stuffed versions of a raccoon and Silver Fox also shone prominently. Jake's grandfather had been an avid outdoorsman, a trait passed down to his father, aunts and uncles. Aforementioned as being a history buff, several paintings of famous Revolutionary and Civil War battles hung on the walls, along with a butterfly collection similar to that of his sister's and a ship model on a shelf above a comfy-looking sofa, and next to that the very M1 Garand semi-automatic rifle his grandfather had used in battle.

To his left was another familiar sight he had heard so much about, one his grandfather enjoyed telling.

A black and white photograph taken sometime in the 1880's hung on the wall, one of a young man dressed in typical mountain man gear of the day. The man stood tall and proud, brandishing a Winchester 1866 rifle, a testament to his pride as a warrior.

_"Frank Cavanaugh, my great-great-great grandfather, a tough mountain man turned law enforcer. Gramps always told me stories about him that my ancestor told him when he was a small child. Apparently he had gone on some major adventure to avenge his Uncle John and ended up bringing down some major landowner and his cronies._

_"For some reason, he would always look at me strangely when he told me these stories, like he knew me from somewhere else. I think I know what he meant. Now that I'm fully grown, that guy in the picture…looks just like me."_

With the man's short black hair, slightly unshaven appearance and determined gaze, indeed it was like Jake was looking at a photo of himself. Beneath the photo was an antiquated Colt Single Action Army, 1873 model, the very gun Frank Cavanaugh was said to have wielded during his great adventure.

A trio of gunshots rang out and the criminal whirled around reaching for his gun, but remembered he was unarmed. Another familiar sight lay before him, one from a traumatic experience he suffered not too long after witnessing his older brother go to jail.

Sprawled on the floor in front of him was his grandfather and above him was young Jake being throttled by a tall man wearing a ski mask carrying a .38 revolver. In another series of gunshots, the assailant lay dead next to his grandfather as a police officer reached through the window.

_"Yeah, I remember that night alright. Some bastard broke into my grandparents' house trying to rob them. My grandpa was still a fighter well into old age and tried to stop him, but the prick was armed and shot him dead. Bad enough he had to kill my own grandfather right before my very eyes, then he tried to kill me. Some cop had been chasing the son of a bitch and popped him right through the window before he could kill me. If the pig would've been faster he could've saved my grandpa too._

_"To think my grandfather was a decorated war hero who landed in Normandy and fought his way through Nazi-occupied lands, only to fall before some nobody punk with a small gun."_

In another ripple Jake found himself transported back to the streets of Somerset, this time near a park he frequented as a child. From around a corner, the child version of himself came speeding towards him on a red bicycle he called "Big Red." The child peddled the bike hurriedly, caught up in his own imaginary race and going as fast as he could hoping to outmaneuver his "other competitors." It seemed like the sky was the limit for the young boy, until he was knocked from his right by a beefy arm.

"Hey moron!" a taller boy taunted, a husky boy of about ten years with short red hair wearing a football jersey. Jake instantly recognized the older boy as Vinnie "Rhino" Rierson, a tough kid from his neighborhood who made his life a living hell all throughout his grade school years.

"Have a nice fall shithead?" Rhino cackled maliciously as a group of four other boys appeared behind him.

"Yeah, you really should watch where you're going!" a boy in a turned around red baseball cap sneered.

Little Jake said nothing as he slowly backed away from the group, pushing himself backward with his hands and feet towards his overturned bike. There was a look of fear in the child's eyes, but at the same time a subtle anger that made him want to lash out and beat the kids up. He continued backing further towards the bike until he gripped a large rock.

"Going somewhere Cavanaugh?" Rhino shouted reaching towards his smaller prey. It was then that Little Jake would act, tossing the large rock and striking his opponent in the eye.

"Gah! My eye!" the bully hollered, clutching his now bruised eye while still swinging at his fallen opponent. "Get him!" he screamed and the beating was on. Within seconds the five bullies had Jake pinned on the ground and proceeded to beat the living crap out of him.

_"'Rhino' Rierson, God I hated that punk. That asshole had nothing better to do but make my life a living hell, all because he was some insecure piece of shit who needed to terrorize others just to feel good about himself. I can't even remember how many times that punk beat me up for my lunch money or tried taking me down on the playground, but I sure as hell know he stole Big Red away from me, the very bike given to me by my grandfather! I don't know what the hell happened to him, but I wish I knew where he lived. I would've made him die the most horrible, excruciating death I could think of."_

The ripple that followed showed Little Jake now a battered mess, eyes blackened, lip split open, face covered in bruises and his clothing all tattered and torn. He walked down a street ignoring the concerned looks of adults all around him until he turned a corner only to happen across another event he would never forget.

While passing Uncle Georgie's Deli, he heard a familiar voice and instantly stopped.

"Perhaps I'm not making myself clear enough old man, let me rephrase myself," a tough, but youthful voice called out, "You're on Blitzer territory now! You will do as we say and you will pay us protection money when we demand it! You got it, or are you too senile to understand me?"

Little Jake recognized that voice very well and snuck up towards an opened door and peered inside. Being as careful as he could to remain hidden, he looked in and saw his older brother Ryan standing at the shop's front counter with four other guys around his age. All of them wore matching black denim vests with the word "Blitzer" stitched on the back with a cracked skull design beneath it. At the moment they were harassing the deli's elderly proprietor for refusing to pay protection money and were preparing to teach him a lesson.

The child version of Jake meanwhile could only stand rooted there and look on in shock. Sure he had heard about his brother doing bad things through his parents, but this was the first time seeing his brother actually commit a crime.

"I will not!" Uncle Georgie shouted back defiantly waving his cane at the five hooligans, "I did not come to this great country to be bullied by a bunch of lowly piss ant hoodlums like you! Now get lost before I call the cops on your worthless punk asses!"

Ryan only smirked at the old man's boldness and looked to his four friends, "Alright old man…you wanna do this the hard way, huh? Well we certainly can do just that!" Turning to his friends he raised a baseball bat, "Trash this place!"

Raising his bat, Jake's older brother proceeded to smash the display counter's glass and then knock over another display, covering the tile floor in bloody red meat. Taking a cue from their leader, the four other gang members followed suit pulling out their own melee weapons and proceeded to cause whatever mayhem they could: smashing windows and display cases, knocking down displays, tearing down signs, breaking open crates and tossing empty beer bottles at the owner himself.

Uncle Georgie had finally taken enough and tried to reach for the nearby phone on the wall, but Ryan quickly leapt over the counter and proceeded to beat him to a bloody pulp. Once the elderly owner had been taken care of, he used his bat to smash the register open and looted everything there was.

Ryan stood tall observing his dirty work with an almost ghoulish glee as his cohorts pulled out cans of spray paint and marked their territory with large yellow "B's."

"Alright boys, I think old Pops here should have the message by now!" Ryan called out to his buddies and they stopped everything they were doing. Turning around to face the fallen old man again he spoke, "Remember old man, you're on the Blitzer's territory now! You keep this up; this will be bound to happen again and again!"

The older Cavanaugh brother was about to tell his boys to pull out when he turned to find his younger brother Jake standing there, looking on in horror at what he had just witnessed his older brother commit.

"Oh shit, Jake!" Ryan blurted out in horror and looked back to his buddies, who shared similar looks now that they had been spotted. Knowing they were dealing with an impressionable child, they shook it off. "Come on; let's get the hell outta here!"

Running out the front door, Ryan Cavanaugh grabbed his older brother and led him to an old battered van his gang had been using.

"Ryan!" Little Jake blurted out, but was silenced by a gloved hand clamping down over his mouth.

"Kid, just shut up and get in," his older brother spoke throwing him into the back and sitting down next to him. One of his fellow Blitzers had started the van up, the others sat in the back with him and his little brother going over the money they had just stolen.

"Ryan, what have you done?" the younger brother asked, only to have his brother clamp his hand down over his mouth again.

"Jake, what has just gone on here is something you were never meant to see!" the older Cavanaugh firmly explained, "Whatever you do, if you tell Mom and Dad about this, I swear to God I will kill you! Got it?"

Little Jake Cavanaugh looked up to his older brother in wide-eyed horror, knowing what he was doing was wrong, but yet he feared his older brother's retribution even more.

"Okay, I won't tell Mom or Dad."

_"My older brother Ryan, or as his buddies called him "The Scorpion," probably the toughest man I ever knew. Dad was right about him being a thug alright, but yet he was still my older brother and I still loved him and looked up to him as a hero. To me he was everything a man should be: strong, fearless, independent, aware and overall, unwilling to take crap from anybody who crossed him. He wasn't a cowardly drunk like our old man; to me he was something, something I could admire. I didn't care if he was a criminal or not, he was still my flesh and blood._

_"A lot of people would tell you that it was him who corrupted me, made me into the degenerate thug I was all through my formative years. Heh, maybe they're actually telling the truth instead of spreading shit behind my back. Sure, he might've taught me the fundamentals of pick-pocketing and how to break into someone's house without being noticed, but he taught me a whole lot more than that._

_"'Remember bro', your wits and your fists are the only things you can rely on in this bullshit world. Its dog eat dog man, everybody is out to get you at one point or another and chances are, none of them are going to peacefully reason with you. You have to be ruthless and cunning to come out on top, that's the only way.'"_

_"My brother spoke those very words to me and I've taken them to heart ever since. If I didn't have him around, I probably would've died years ago."_

The world rippling around him now, Jake now found himself in a Karate dojo, watching a teenaged version of himself clad in a white Karate gi sparring with another boy about his age. In the background, an elderly Japanese man sat cross-legged watching his two pupils intently.

_"Master Oroku, the man who taught me how to defend myself, teaching me stuff Ryan never could. Mom secretly signed me up for Karate lessons, figuring I needed them to help defend myself from all the bullies who gave me shit at school."_

The sparring match between teenaged Jake and his opponent went back and forth, until the dark-haired youth grabbed his sandy blonde-haired opponent and placed him in a leg lock submission, forcing him to tap out.

"Match!" Master Oroku called out rising to his feet. Teenage Jake helped his opponent back to his feet and they both bowed to their master.

In a bright flash, the same room was now dimly-lit by only a few candles. The teenaged version of Jake now sat in deep meditation before Master Oroku.

"Tell me child, what is the true purpose of a warrior," the aged sensei spoke in a husky tone, one full of wisdom and deep humility.

"To constantly improve and gain a greater understanding of the world around you," the youth spoke.

Without warning there was another flash and this time, Jake found himself in an old boxing gym where aspiring fighters lifted weights, ran on treadmills, peddled exercise bikes and punched away at the numerous heavy bags positioned around the large quarters.

It was in the ring where the teenaged version of Jake, now clad in boxing gear, trained with a Hispanic youth. In the corner stood a middle-aged African-American man dressed in a red track suit, coaching both fighters.

"Alright Cavanaugh, take him down!" the trainer shouted.

Bobbing and weaving around his fast partner, Jake managed to stay one step ahead of him and delivered a powerful uppercut that knocked his opponent backward against the ropes and out of the fight.

The trainer smiled towards the younger Jake and gave him the thumbs up, only to have Master Oroku standing alongside him a second later.

_"Master Oroku, a fierce warrior from his younger days, known all over his native Japan and much of Europe and Asia for his abilities._

_"Horace "Lefty" Epps, a former professional boxer, could have reached the big time, but some shady promoter paid an opponent to rough him up pretty bad. Never got over it either, so he spent the rest of his days training._

_"Both of those guys were great fighters who taught me a lot of what I know today. They taught me how to fight with discipline and finesse, something half the bullies at my school wouldn't know jack shit about. Believe me, it really played into my favor in the end."_

The scene transferred to the front lawn of another place Jake had plenty of rough times at, Somerset High.

High school was hell for Jake Cavanaugh. A quiet, introverted individual who spent much of his time alone, Jake was an easy target for bullies. Mostly he was picked on because they knew of his father being an alcoholic and his brother being a criminal, the latter's reputation still known after he nearly killed that other kid in a scuffle gone too far years earlier. Others picked on him because he often wore black and listened to heavy metal, arousing accusations of him being a Satanist by a few deeply religious students, and mockingly labeled a "vampire" by others. If it wasn't for either of those reasons, then people were either intimidated by him or just made up other excuses not to like him.

He was also a common target for jocks and other tough guys in general looking for a cheap thrill, thinking he was just some defenseless Goth kid who was too chicken shit to fight back.

"Rhino" Rierson suddenly stepped into the picture, now older and much larger than he was before. A large group of students surrounded the two teenage fighters, a diverse group of kids of all different sizes, races and cliques. Neither student was particularly popular, so the crowd remained largely indifferent to who would win the match. All they knew is that they were about to see some action that would distract them from their monotonous daily routine.

"Hahahahahaha!!! Cavanaugh, you lousy wimp! I've been mopping the floor with your punk ass for years! What makes you think this time around will be any different? Since when do you think you've become a match for me? A match for the Rhino!" the bully scoffed punching a beefy fist into his opened palm.

The teenaged Jake Cavanaugh stared viciously towards the very heathen who had tormented him for years, ready for some payback. "Don't be quick to assume I haven't learned a few things from you over the years, Rierson. I'm turning the tables and paying you back for all those years of hell you put me through!"

Rhino laughed again, "Oh yeah? Well we're gonna see who the bitch is when this is over!"

Without any bell nearby to signal them, the two teens inched towards each other with their fists raised. This was a moment young Jake had been waiting for, one for six long years.

Making the first move like he always did, Rhino attempted a haymaker directed at his opponent's face, but Jake was quicker and delivered a hook to the bully's ribs, one that sent him staggering backwards clutching his side.

"You're gonna regret that one," the burly bully grunted attempting a hook punch, which his smaller and swifter opponent managed to dodge. Copying a move he had seen on wrestling, Rhino attempted to clothesline Jake, but the latter rolled under the move with a grace nobody knew he possessed.

Jake rolled back to his feet and smirked at his opponent, beckoning him forth knowing it would anger his opponent.

"Giving up already Rhino?" he taunted, for once feeling the rush of being the aggressor over a hated bully.

The bully only roared in anger and attempted to grapple with his opponent, but Jake grabbed him and kneed him in the gut three times before delivering his own right hook that knocked his opponent to the ground, prompting cheers from the crowd in attendance.

The once fearsome "Rhino" Rierson was flung to the ground, now a bloody mess after having his nose broken and left eye blackened. Still there was much fight in the angered menace.

"Damn you!!!" he screamed as he lunged towards Jake, only to be met by a backhand that left a nasty bruise on his jaw. Utilizing what Lefty taught him, he delivered a combo of lightning quick jabs and ended with an uppercut that had the bully reeling in a drunken daze. To add an exclamation point, he launched himself into the air, performing a flying kick that caught his opponent square in the chest. He wasn't done there.

The adrenaline coursing through his veins, combined with the pent up frustration of years of torment and abuse he suffered by his opponent's hand, Jake went into an animalistic rage pounding away at his opponent's face. The fists flew at a rapid rate and with each blow; his opponent's blood flew through the air.

"This has been six years in the making you bastard! Six long fucking years," Jake hollered and continued pounding away until he felt more than one pair of hands latch onto his arms and upper body.

"That's going to be enough out of you Cavanaugh!" an authoritative voice boomed from behind.

"Ah Principal Ernst," Jake smugly replied while he was being dragged away, "It's awful nice of you to finally show up, just too bad you couldn't have done it when it was Rierson pounding away at me!"

"_I fucked up anybody who messed with me back in high school, and believe me I had a lot of bullies who wanted a piece of me, just because I was different. I wasn't as defenseless as they thought. Anybody who messed with me left a bloody pulp. It surprises me sometimes that I didn't get expelled for what I did, then again I had an aunt who was a powerful defense attorney. She was able to pull quite a few strings for me, being her favorite nephew and all, she knew about the crap I went through. Too bad she couldn't get my dad put behind bars. As powerful as she was as an attorney, she was still frightened of my father; after all he had threatened to kill my mom on several occasions if she took any action against him."_

"Way to go Jake, you sure fixed his punk ass!" another youthful voice called out.

The principal and other teachers dragging the struggling Jake away suddenly vanished, as did everybody else on the school's front lawn.

Four other young teen males now stood on the lawn before Jake: the first having light sandy-brown hair and wearing a dark brown bomber-style jacket, Slayer t-shirt underneath and blue jeans. Next to him stood a slightly taller guy with short curly black hair and wearing a nice button-up white shirt and beige khaki slacks. The third boy wore a turned around red baseball cap over bright red hair, blue and black plaid shirt over a Las Venturas Bandits t-shirt and green cargo pants. The last person in the group had short, shaggy blonde hair, wore glasses and was dressed nicer than the others, wearing a blue sweater and navy jeans.

_"Jimmy, Chris, Eddie and Vance, my closest buddies throughout high school, and next to my older brother, my closest friends in the world. The five of us together were a clique, practically a family unit. All of us were united by the similarities we shared, either we came from broken homes, lost people close to us at an early age, or were bullied for being different. All that mattered was that we were brought together by some kind of fate to become close friends. We looked out for one another and had all our fun together."_

In a flash, Jake found himself taken to the woods he frequented as a child. Growing up the way he did, being out in nature away from the sounds and vices of modern society was a welcome relief. It almost felt as if he belonged out here from the beginning, like an animal born into captivity who had managed to inherently adapt to a new environment.

He also liked being out in the woods because it was out here that his father seemingly became a different person.

In the forests surrounding Somerset, Jake's father wasn't the abusive alcoholic he was within the confines of his own home, but rather he became a halfway normal human being. With no access to alcohol, he became the firm, intuitive mentor-type individual a normal father should be, and it was out here that he would actually try to help his children rather than berate and abuse them. It was almost as if he too seemed more at home out in the wild than he did in the structured boundaries of modern civilization.

It was strange indeed, but Jake and his siblings reveled in their time out in the wild because it was an escape from the beatings they endured back home.

_I never thought it was possible, but whenever we were out in the woods my dad actually acted like a dad, not some brutal tyrant out for blood. He taught me a lot out here in the forests: hunting, fishing, trapping, gathering edible plants, dirt biking, survival skills he learned in the Marines, hell he even taught me how to use a gun properly! I know it was a weird metamorphosis, but it was a welcome one. Why he acted like that, I may never know either._

The buzzing of dirt bikes brought Jake out of his trance this time as he looked down a trail and saw five dirt bikes coming towards him, those of Teenaged Jake and his four buddies. Like the disembodied spectator he was, the bikes passed him by without notice, the last biker seen carrying a six pack of beer strapped to his dirt bike. He remembered what was happening now, the thought sending chills down his spine.

Jake watched as his younger self and his four friends raced their bikes down a dirt trail, towards an abandoned cabin heavily obscured by both standing and fallen trees.

At the front of the pack, the blue and gold dirt bike of Vance cut past Jake's red and black one and sped up the hill at a seemingly impossible speed that left the others far behind. Nearly flying into the cabin, Vance quickly brought his bike to a stop and leapt off, grabbing his own six pack of beer and running inside the cabin to wait for his lagging friends.

A loud roar sounded above the combined buzz of the motor bikes and the four remaining bikers were stopped abruptly as they watched a Rustler airplane descending towards the earth, towards the abandoned cabin with Vance inside!

The plane connected with the cabin head on and with it, everything disappeared in a huge ball of reddish-orange flames and twisted metal.

"_The old cabin, how could I forget that place? It was just some abandoned shack out in the middle of nowhere, but it was also an escape from adults. At least once a week, the guys and I would sneak out there and have a few beers. Good times…until that day came along._

"_We were out racing towards the cabin, following our little tradition where the first person to make it would always get first dibs on the alcohol. One fateful day Vance managed to beat all of us up there and telling by the way he ran into that cabin, we could tell he was anxious to get smashed. Well that day wasn't the day to be first._

"_Some airplane flying above malfunctioned and came flying down right into the cabin, blowing up and killing my buddy right away._

"_Man it was a mess; they had to have a closed casket funeral for the poor kid. Hell, they didn't even have enough of him left for a casket, more like a shoebox._

"_Poor Vance, he didn't deserve that fate. That should've happened to nobody; even the pilot didn't deserve to die like that._

"_Unlike the rest of us, Vance came from a fairly wealthy family in one of the nicer parts of Somerset. He was a straight A student who probably could've gone to any college he pleased and seemed to have the academic world on notice. Sadly though, and like the rest of us, things weren't going very good for him back home. Both of his parents were far too busy to spend any time with him or his brother, guess it was the loneliness that led him to us in the first place. Despite his differences, we still loved him like one of our own."_

When everything came back to normal, Jake was somewhere else.

The loud blast of heavy metal filled the cramped confines of a Tahoma luxury sedan, an older tune by Megadeth called "Peace Sells, But Who's Buying?"

Jake sat in the back next to Eddie, who was singing along loudly with the song and gesturing his hands in an air guitar motion. Jimmy sat up front with a map spread out in front of him, trying to bark out directions to Chris over the booming drones of heavy metal. Chris himself was driving the new car at dangerous speeds, at the moment passing a station wagon carrying a family and flipping off the driver.

"Uh ok Chris, I really don't think you should be pissing off other drivers like that!" Jimmy shouted over to his friend, looking back to the station wagon now behind them.

"Chill out dude, it's my car and I'll do whatever the hell I want!" Chris shouted back arrogantly. "Besides, Lexi's party starts in half an hour. We've gotta be there on time," he replied looking in the mirror brushing a hand through his hair.

"Well you could at least slow the fuck down man," Jimmy retorted, "You don't wanna get a ticket on the way there. You've only had your license for a month now; don't need points off your record already."

"He's Chris man; his hormones are always in overdrive!" Jake shouted from the backseat, rousing laughs from both Eddie and Jimmy, the latter whom he touched fists with.

"Ha ha, very funny Cavanaugh, you talk pretty big for a virgin, did you know that?" Chris shot back.

"Whoa!!! He got you good man!" Eddie shouted next to him reaching over to pat Chris on the shoulder.

The sounds of 80's thrash metal were quickly replaced by the brooding angst early 90's grunge as "We Die Young" by Alice in Chains came onto the airwaves.

Jake lay back staring off into the countryside to his right, about to drift off until he spotted a stop sign.

"Oh shit! Look out!!!" he screamed, but he was too late. The beeping of a horn sounded and the driver's side door was struck full force by another vehicle, sending Chris flying over into Jimmy.

Once again, darkness followed.

"_That '89 Tahoma his parents got him for his 16th birthday, that was Chris's pride and joy. I swear there wasn't a single lunchtime conversation that didn't go by without him rambling on about the modifications he was having made down at the TransFender shop over in Red Sands. That car was his baby and Chris loved to go fast. He was a car enthusiast in every sense of the word and he wanted to become a professional racer, if not that a mechanic at least._

"_I still remember that night when he was taken from this world. There was some party being thrown by this girl over in Bainbridge that Chris had a huge crush on, being the horn dog he was naturally he had to go and see if he could win her over, or at least a night in bed. Naturally, he ended up dragging all of us along too._

"_He was the typical youngster; he felt invincible behind the wheel of his car. The adrenaline ran through his system the second he turned the ignition on that car and he didn't care about anything else. All he cared about was the thrill of the rush._

"_I even remember the very song that played on the radio before the crash, "We Die Young" by Alice in Chains, a mocking omen in every sense of the word before that large truck hit us._

"_Chris died right away from the impact, never having a chance. Jimmy got pretty banged up from the incident and got whiplash as a result. The poor guy also had to suffer from having his best friend's corpse laying on top of him until the paramedics arrived to pull it off, gave him nightmares for the rest of his days after that. Eddie got a couple cuts and bruises as a result, but he was fine otherwise. For some reason though, I was the only person who remained untouched in the whole ordeal, as it was when Vance got killed."_

The sonic blast of heavy metal again filled the air and with it the scenery changed. Young Jake Cavanaugh was now in a dimly-lit basement with walls covered by numerous heavy metal posters and dingy old furniture covered in old clothes and miscellaneous trash. In his hands he held a Bender guitar, which he shredded away with the ferocity of an up-and-comer determined to be the next great metal god. A red dragon design ran down the black and red rig's side, based on a sketch he had copied from a book of fantasy artwork belonging to his older brother.

Next to him, Jimmy held a Bender guitar of his own, this one being a V-shaped model with green flame and skull designs as opposed to Jake's elaborate dragon design. To Jimmy's left was another friend of theirs named Miles playing a dark blue bass and behind him rounding out the band was Eddie banging away at a drum kit.

Knowing Jimmy still suffered the mental aftermath of watching his best friend Chris die, Jake and Eddie wanted to do something major to help their friend out. Next to his friends, his greatest love was music. Bringing a mutual friend of theirs into the mix, the four united to form their own metal group called "Hellfire" and began performing shows at parties and small clubs both in and around Somerset. Jimmy had been deeply inspired by some of the greatest guitar virtuosos of the 80's and everything he learned, he parlayed over to his closest friend.

Being the fast learner he is, Jake was already performing solos and had managed to electrify the crowds at every show he had been at, although not as well as his best friend. He still had a lot to learn and was willing to take in whatever he could.

Finishing up their latest song with a rowdy drum solo, the band ended with a collective battle cry.

"Damn, that was seriously badass!" Miles hollered grabbing a water bottle and taking a long swig.

"We're so going to show everybody at that battle of the bands on Saturday night," Eddie said tossing one of his sticks into the air, catching it with the grace of a master.

"I sure hope so," Jimmy added, "I'd really like to show those smug bastards in Death Line. Those punks can't play for shit and the only reason they're really any threat to us is because they got some damn good connections."

"We can't get too cocky, Jimmy," Jake replied, "We'll just have to keep practicing until we've got everything to perfection. If there's one thing we have that those assholes don't, it's the passion for what we do."

"Yeah man," Miles added wrapping his arm around Jimmy, "I can just picture the day we're headlining Crowfest years from now!" he spoke looking upwards in pride. "Our name is going to be the biggest freaking name on the banner. Hellfire in the biggest freaking, flaming letters they got! I can just picture it dude! We're going to be fucking huge one of these days!"

"Damn right!" Eddied chirped in, "I can't wait until all the hot lady groupies of ours are lining up around the block waiting for a night in the sack with me! Now that's going to be seriously badass right there dudes!"

Everybody broke down into a fit of hysterical laughter that nearly had them rolling on the floor clutching their sides.

"Who knows man, maybe one day you'll be the spokesman for the next great "male enhancement" product!" Jake added, raising the volume even higher and earning him a few high-fives from Jimmy and Miles.

"You so got served on that one!" Jimmy shot back, grabbing Eddie and pulling him into a headlock for a noogie.

"Man, could you four be any louder? I swear you're about to waken the dead!" a young woman's voice called out.

The band turned to see a cute redheaded girl walking into the room and over to Jimmy, who wrapped his arms around her and kissed her passionately.

"Sorry about that sweetie," Jimmy said holding her close. The young woman was his girlfriend Danielle, whom he had been dating steadily for four months now. She was an angel to him who had come into his life shortly after the accident which claimed Chris's existence. Jake felt deep down that if it wasn't for her, Jimmy probably would have killed himself out of grief.

"You'd better be," she giggled giving Jimmy a kiss on the cheek, "you keep that up and there won't be any "dessert" for you later on," she spoke with a playful punch to his shoulder as she exited the room. Jake and the others stood off to the side trying their hardest not to laugh.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Jimmy whirled around to face his friends, who looked like they were holding their breath. He let out a heavy sigh, "Okay, go ahead if you must."

Jake looked over to the others before they bent over and busted up laughing, so hard their lungs hurt.

"Dude, she's got you whipped big time!" Eddie roared nearly knocking over Miles, who eventually fell into a nearby chair holding his aching sides.

"We'd better not be around much longer then boys," Jake said looking over to Eddie and Miles, "We don't wanna deprive our friend here of his 'fun,'" he said making the quotation gestures with his fingers.

"Yeah, yeah sure," Jimmy said collapsing onto an old sofa with Jake. The four friends gathered around an old coffee table where there lay a cooling pizza with several slices missing already and next to it, a nearly depleted case of Mountain Brew sodas.

"So got any new songs planned out?" Jake asked before taking a bite out of his pizza.

"Actually yeah," Jimmy replied, finishing up his latest slice and then pulling out an old black notebook covered in band stickers, "I thought up a good one too…"

Before Jimmy could recite his lyrics aloud, an ear-piercing scream came from upstairs.

"Danielle!" he shouted and leapt over the couch he sat on, bolting up the flight of stairs. Jake and the others jumped up to chase after their friend when a single gunshot rang out.

"Oh shit, Jimmy!" Eddie hollered, stumbling as he raced up the stairs behind Jake and Miles. As they ran up the stairs they could hear Danielle's sobs, indicating something bad had happened.

Breaking the basement door of its hinges, the three teens found their friend lying on the wooden floor in a pool of his own blood, a bullet having gone through his heart. Danielle knelt over his corpse sobbing bitterly and clutching his hand.

In the doorway stood another young man, wearing a camouflage hat with a Confederate flag embroidered on it and a plaid vest. He held a smoking hunting rifle in hand and shouted angrily towards Danielle, "That's what you get you two-timing bitch! You like to mess around on me, huh? Well I just made that bastard pay!"

"That bastard was my best friend you asshole!" Jake growled as he charged out of the darkness towards the man.

Whoever this young man was, he obviously hadn't expected Jimmy to have company over and immediately freaked out as Jake made his way towards him. He tried to turn around, but Jake tackled him from behind and sent him flying through the guardrail.

The man tried to call out for help, but Jake drove his fist into the man's jaw, shattering it upon impact. He then head butted the man and continued punching and kicking him in an animalistic fury.

"I'm going to make you pay you motherfucker!" the enraged teen hollered as he continued to pound away at his friend's killer, eventually leading him over to the beaten up Ford Mesa he had arrived in and smashed his face into the driver's side window.

The sound of police sirens would abruptly end his assault and then the darkness returned.

"_Apparently Danielle had a jealous ex-boyfriend who was still trying to get back with her and threatening Jimmy at every turn, something he didn't tell any of us about. You should've said something to us Jimmy, damn it you still could've been alive today._

"_From what we heard around, the guy was some drunken redneck who used to beat the hell out of Danielle, until she left him. He just couldn't let go and he harassed her constantly, at home, at work and even at school. She filed a restraining order on his punk ass, but even that wouldn't keep him away. Things only seemed to get worse when she got with Jimmy, gotta give her credit for trying to move on at least._

"_That one night, my buddies and I were over to Jimmy's house rehearsing for that upcoming battle of the bands when that fucker showed up with a deer rifle. Jimmy tried to stop him from going after Danielle and the fucker opened up on him, poor guy never stood a chance. He must've come with only enough ammo to kill one person, once he saw me he didn't know what to do._

"_I took that fucker outside and beat him within an inch of his life. He murdered my best friend in cold blood and I wanted him to pay for his crime. I don't know how long I beat him for, let alone how he actually managed to survive it, but one thing was for sure, I gave him an ass kicking he would never forget. Heard he was in intensive care for quite a few months after what I did._

"_Gerald Jeffers was his name, got a life sentence for what he did, he should've gotten the death penalty instead. They wanted to get me for attempted murder, thankfully though Danielle and the guys were there to testify, saying that he tried to kill me too. It was bullshit at its finest, but they wanted the bastard to pay for what he did almost as much as I did."_

The bright lights of the city assailed Jake's senses when visible imagery returned. Scanning the area carefully, he noticed that he was looking down upon Somerset at dusk. He remembered this view all too well; it was where he would view the city at night from Eddie's balcony.

Teenaged Jake and Eddie were sitting together on the latter's balcony at night, staring forward and watching the world beneath them. It had become a tradition after Jimmy's murder, the two remaining friends in their tight-knit clique would get together whenever they had free time and would just sit there pondering numerous topics, ranging from the meaning of life to what their lives would be like once they escaped from Somerset. They were deeply intuitive conversations which Jake himself really enjoyed and gave him some semblance of solace with everything he had been through in his brief time here on this earth.

"Yeah, I was talking to one of the representatives from Vallerdyne Tech at school today," Eddie said before taking a swig of his Loco Cola, "It sounds like they have a pretty good Political Science program there; think I might look into it. How about you, do you have any ideas what you might be doing after high school?"

"No clue," Jake replied wryly, "There's so many possibilities out there I just can't be too certain. The only thing I do know for sure is that I plan on getting the hell out of my house once I'm legally able to."

"Yeah, you gotta be careful in your case," Eddie said almost nervously, "You've got a criminal record y'know. You'd better hope they don't look at that."

The teenaged Jake didn't reply right away. It was true that by now he had a criminal record, and most recently was suspected of arson at the home of that guy who had murdered Jimmy. Frankly, he was determined that nothing would hold him back in his future, legal complications or not.

"All I know is that I'm getting the hell out of this place when I graduate," Jake stated bluntly, "Our closest friends are gone and neither one of us is particularly close to our families, plus there isn't much opportunity in this dump anyway. I say the second the ceremony ends, you and I hightail it out of here."

"Any idea where we'll head off to," Eddie asked taking another long swig of his soda.

Jake laid back hands behind his head in deep thought, "Hmm, Carcer City is a decaying ghetto, so that's out of the question. Los Santos has too much gang warfare, don't know about that. San Fierro…some of the people there freak me out. Liberty City is too much of an armpit until itself; don't know about that place either. Vice City, tends to be pretty nice all year 'round, aside from hurricanes, plus lots of hot chicks in bikinis."

The last comment drew a loud whoop from Eddie, "Hell yeah, it's been a while. Maybe it should be Vice then."

Starting to feel sleepy, Jake sat up and Eddie stood up to stretch his limbs out and that's where the mayhem started.

A succession of loud machine gun-like pops rang out and the two teens found themselves bombarded by rapid-fire projectiles, a few of which struck Eddie head on and caused him to lose his balance.

"J-Jake! Help me!" Eddie cried as he fell against the guardrail and over the edge.

"Eddie!!!" Jake shouted as he lunged for his falling friend, but it was too late. He could only look on in wide-eyed horror once again as his remaining close friend fell to his doom, landing awkwardly on the ground with a sickening crack.

"No!!!" Jake roared into the nighttime sky, having lost the final member of his little clique, the only men he counted as his closest friends. He fell to his knees in shock, only then did he take notice of what the objects were that flew at him and his friend.

"Bottle rockets?" he asked aloud and then looked up as he heard the rustling of bushes below.

Peering deeply into the shadowy bushes beyond Eddie's backyard, he spotted three individuals in blue and white lettermen's jackets with cobra designs on the back. They scooped up a smoking box and rushed into the darkness, followed immediately by the squeal of tires.

"_Some bastards decided to pull a little prank on Eddie and I and fired a whole shitload of bottle rockets at us. Those bastards got a laugh alright, at the expense of my own friend's life!_

"_I saw the blue and white jackets they had, and on the back, the unmistakable Cobra symbol of the high school football team. Believe me, I knew what I saw, I saw it on a daily basis when those assholes were either bashing my head into a locker or pounding the shit out of one of my friends. Those were members of the "pride of Somerset, California," the Somerset Cobras football team._

"_Those punks thought they were untouchable just because of what they did on the athletic field and more importantly, who their families were. They took absolute pleasure in torturing anybody they felt was beneath them, but yet they were treated as heroes just because they tossed around some freaking pigskin ball! It was enough to make me sick to my stomach._

"_Now though, they had crossed the line and I was going about to do something no one else had the guts to do, I was going to track them down and teach them a lesson they would never forget._

"_Fortunately for me, I knew where their main hangout was."_

With no flashes or ripples this time, Jake found himself transported to a small sports-themed restaurant called "Pigskin Pete's," a joint frequented by all top athletes from his school. He watched passively as his younger self nearly kicked the door from its hinges on a personal seek and destroy mission.

The restaurant's dining area was a shrine to the small city's athletic history with walls covered in team photographs and plaques, as well as autographed photos of famous athletes. In homage to the sport that made the town famous, the carpeting resembled that of a football field, several booths had benches that looked like those for football teams, tables were shaped like footballs and all the employees wore black and white striped referee shirts.

At the moment, the room was full of muscular football players in their blue and white lettermen's jackets accompanied by their beautiful girlfriends, who were probably only with them either because of their high social status or because they were "good in bed."

None of that mattered to Jake; all he saw was a room full of guilty thugs who had probably conspired in the whole fiasco resulting in Eddie's death. He wanted justice, he wanted payback.

Right away the younger Jake rushed into the room and set his sights on the first Cobra he saw, a tall Incredible Hulk-like individual he had previous run-ins with named Ted Beckman.

"You're going down!!!" Teenaged Jake screamed as he launched himself at the larger man, performing a flying kick that sent the football star flying back into a table covered in shot glasses.

"Shit, it's that punk from the house! Get him!" shouted another Cobra player, whom he recognized from school as Troy "the Wrecker" Zidane, who was often the talk of the sports section as the Somerset Cobra's star quarterback.

Another Cobra tried to punch Jake, but he ducked the man's blow and answered with a right to his stomach, followed by a left hook to the face and a powerful right haymaker that sent the man stumbling back over his fallen teammate. A third Cobra jumped into the fray, only to be met with a knee to the gut and then grabbed and thrown into another table.

By now the players' girlfriends and employees were running around screaming and the football players themselves started tossing beer bottles and glasses at the criminal, one of which grazed the side of his face and drew blood. Jake barely registered the blow, he was so high on a rage-induced adrenaline he barely felt anything.

Leaping into the air, Jake performed a spinning roundhouse kick that floored another one of the players and then did a back thrust kick on another who tried sneaking up behind him. The numbers factor coming into play, another Cobra managed to tackle him to the ground and pinned all his weigh down onto him.

"A loser with some guts, I'll hand it to you," remarked the jock, a tall kid with short brown hair and a matching goatee, "but you're just going to end up like all the other hopeless slobs we squash, nothing."

Roaring in anger, Jake brought his head up and shattered the man's nose, leaving him on the ground writhing in pain. Blood covered his forehead now and he looked like a soldier who had survived a major battlefield massacre, but this battle was far from over.

Running towards another player, he sent him flying back into a trophy case with a scissors kick and then swept another from his feet, only to take a hard punch from another who had found an opening. The force of the blow knocked the younger Jake back into a wall and was followed by a few more blows.

"You're going down Vamp!" the blonde player taunted, whose embroidered name revealed him as Cody. The Cobra followed up his assault with a knee to the raging teen's gut and then grabbed him and threw him into a another table.

"He's down! Let's get him!" another Cobra called out.

Things were getting desperate for Jake and he needed to act fast. Reaching behind him he found a wooden chair and mustered up his strength to chuck it in the approaching players' direction. Having slowed their advance, he reached around a tossed a few bottles and whatever else he could get his hands on before rising back to his feet.

Ignoring the pain inflicted by Cody, Jake leapt towards the players and began throwing whatever punches and kicks he could at the cluster of relentless Cobras coming towards him. All he cared about was inflicting as much pain as he could, wanting the jocks to know exactly how he felt.

"Damn you bastards, damn you all to Hell," Jake roared as the blood flew through the air and the screams of pain followed. The raged coursed through his veins and he seemed unstoppable, until a Cobra broke a discarded table leg across his back.

"Not so tough now, are you punk? Huh, are you?" a Cobra taunted kicking him in his injured shoulder. A flurry of fists and feet assailed the young teen as he lay helplessly on his hands and knees.

"A worthless chump, huh? Just like your loser friends!" the same voice called out and the flurry of fists and feet continued until everything became a blur around him.

In another flash, young Jake Cavanaugh now lay in a hospital bed, his right arm in a sling, brace around his neck and his face heavily bandaged with his left eye completely wrapped up.

"_I found those bastards alright and I fucked up every single one of them I could. There may have been only one of me and twenty-something of them, but I didn't care. Eddie needed to be avenged._

"_Everything seemed to be going in my favor despite the numbers game, which is until that punk cracked me across the back with that table leg. After that, everything went dark._

"_They fucked me up pretty good: broke my right arm, cracked a few of my ribs, sprained my neck, screwed up me left knee, broke my nose, dislocated my shoulder, bruised my left eye until it was swollen shut and who knows how many cuts. To call me a mess was an understatement, I was a disaster. The physical pain was nothing compared to what I learned the day after._

"_The Somerset Cobras, each and every single one of them, including the three guys who pulled that prank on us, got let off with a slap on the wrist…a slap on the fucking wrist for an incident that caused a man's death! Deep down I probably should've expected it 'cause they were all punks from families of wealth and high social status. They had the best lawyers money could buy and could've probably shot some kid dead in the middle of rush hour traffic and still gotten away with it! _

"_Me, I had my aunt and it was only through a lot of string pulling that I didn't end up getting expelled from school for what I did. _

"_Still, the pain was there from what had happened. I truly felt alone in the world now with my closest friends gone. Back home I couldn't be helped much either. My dad was still a hardcore drunk who would probably beat my mom and siblings within an inch of their lives if they even tried to be there for me, he viewed me as a no good punk and wanted me to feel alone and isolated."_

From out of the darkness, a beautiful young woman appeared. She stood about five feet seven inches in height and had long, beautiful light brown hair falling to the middle of her back, crystal blue eyes of the lightest hue, lips as pink as the flowers that grew in his mother's garden, fair, delicate-looking skin and a shapely figure that would make any normal guy swoon. In her arms she held a bouquet of the reddest roses he had ever seen.

However, it was when she finally smiled to him that his heart was instantly melted.

"_On that very day, a miracle happened, a miracle that brought light to the darkness of my tragedy, one that seemed to soothe whatever pain I felt._

"_It was the day I met HER, my angel._

"_Her name was Ashley and she told me that she had been one of the Cobras' girlfriends, but left him after she learned what he had pulled. She too had been disgusted and told me that she completely understood my grief and the sadness that must've driven me when I beat up those punks. Hell, even she thought that I was giving them what they deserved._

"_What struck me the most, she told me she would be there for me if I ever needed anything and even offered me her phone number. It was the first time in my life somebody told me they would be there for me, and coming from her lips it was the most beautiful thing I ever heard._

"_She turned around to leave, but I grabbed her and told her to stay. I didn't want to be left alone and I certainly didn't want this to be my only time seeing her. I can still hear that cute giggle of hers as she said 'Okay, maybe I could stay for a few extra minutes, I'm in no hurry.'_

"_That woman ended up staying for hours and for the first time in my life, I truly opened up to someone about EVERYTHING that had gone in my life. I moved her to tears with what I had gone through and she told me that she was looking to meet more people like me in the world; people who were unique and different to what surrounded her._

"_She told me how she was from the Conrad Park area, the richest part in all of Somerset, and was getting tired of all the superficial B.S. that surrounded her on a daily basis. Huh, can you believe it? A nice, popular rich girl from the good part of town is giving me, a social outcast troublemaker, the time of day. Sure it would probably ruin her standing in the school's elite social circles, but somehow I don't think she would care too much."_

A series of images flashed through the criminal's mind, all from the time he spent with Ashley: their first date at a small Italian restaurant, their first kiss under a starlit nighttime sky, walks through the park, trips to the county fair and ending with the eventual consummation of their relationship. Overall, they were images of Jake genuinely enjoying himself feeling the happiest he ever had in his whole life.

"_Once I got out of the hospital, I spent all the free time I could with that girl. For the first time in my life, I truly felt alive and I loved it, and I loved her more. She was the first person I told 'I love you' to and actually meant it. Ashley literally saved my life and for once I knew what I was going to do once I got out of Somerset, I was going to marry her and bring some stability to my life._

"_Things seemed like they would be that way, until fate decided to piss on me again."_

The teenaged Jake Cavanaugh found himself on a park bench sitting next to Ashley, who sobbed hysterically.

"Jake, I'm pregnant!" her anguished voice rang through his mind.

"_Those words hit me like a Mack truck. Both of us were barely past 18 and already she was pregnant with my child. Both of us were too frightened to be excited by the news and had no idea what we were going to do about it. We both knew for certain her father would kill her if he found out, but she didn't want to have an abortion either. We were stuck between a rock and a hard place and decided we wouldn't tell anybody until we thought up a better solution."_

A funeral march sounded from out of nowhere. The next thing he knew, Jake was in a suit standing before the very casket that held his high school sweetheart, the love of his life. Having repressed his emotions for much of his life, this time tears streamed freely down his face.

"_I failed her…I failed the only woman I ever truly loved in my entire life…_

"_Four months into her pregnancy, Ashley's father found out and hurt her in the worst way possible. He flew into a frenzy and beat her so severely she lost the baby. According to her mother, she became so despondent at the loss of her own child; she ended up overdosing on sleep medication."_

The scene of Ashley in her coffin was replaced by a tombstone with her portrait engraved on the surface and the inscription:

_ASHLEY MARIE HAWKINSON, JAN. 17, 1974 – MAY 25, 1992._

"_Daughter, granddaughter, sister, niece and a friend. An angel bestowed upon our earth to bring warmth and happiness to those around. May she forever run freely beneath God's golden sun in peace."_

"_All my life I've been good at suppressing my emotions, I even wasn't one for crying as neither a small kid nor when my best friends died. When Ashley died, all that changed. _

"_I felt my bottled up emotions bowl me over like the floodgates to my mind had been opened. I don't remember how long it was, but I must've spent the entire day crying on her gravesite. It was the single most painful experience I had ever endured, even more powerful than everything else combined. From what I do remember, it's the last time I ever cried."_

The scene once again changed and now, it was a stormy night and young Jake Cavanaugh found himself running heavily through the pouring rain with the loud cracking sounds of thunder and bright flashes of lightning above. He had left his friend Doug's house early after a night of playing Mega Genesis hoping to beat the expected bad weather, but instead they had gotten very wrapped up in a night of playing Road Brawler Omega and this was the price he paid for it.

Barely able to see in the downpour, he had to strain his eyes in order to spot the white picket fence he knew all too well. Shoving the gate open, he bolted towards the front door and flung himself inside, hoping deeply his parents would be asleep.

The house was dark and quiet as he made his way through the living room tossing his heavy jacket onto the coat rack and was about to head for his bedroom when he saw the kitchen lights on. From the lit up room he could heard something totally unusual, his father was crying. For what reason he had no idea, his father was a big tough guy who barely ever showed any emotion other than anger. Out of curiosity, the teen silently stepped towards the kitchen.

Jake stood there frozen in terror as he laid eyes upon what his father had just done.

His mother laid there on the floor in a pool of her own blood. Above her prone corpse, his father stood on his knees holding a smoking gun in hand. A broken beer bottle lay just inches away from him.

"M-Mom? Mom!!!" Jake screamed. He couldn't believe it, his mother was dead and his father had killed her right there in the kitchen.

Upon hearing his son's voice, Steven Cavanaugh looked up to his middle son, the fires of hell burning from within his tormented soul. Apparently these weren't the actions of a drunken lout, but those of a man who had seriously lost it.

"You…"

"D-Dad, what's going on?" asked a frightened Jake.

Jake's father stood up and moved towards him, forcing him to inch backwards. The teen knew something was up as mental instability had claimed his father. Strong winds caused the tree branches to slap menacingly against the window repeatedly and the thunder got louder.

"It's all your fault! You and your worthless older brother…it's all your fault…" he rasped closing the gap towards his son.

"Dad?" Jake asked again. He knew his father had been a drunkard for as long as he could remember, but this was going too far even for his standards.

"Don't 'Dad' me, you fucking bastard!" spat the man as he came closer to Jake.

"You two made me do it," he growled gesturing towards his now deceased wife, "Your constant run-ins with the law and her standing up, defending your criminal actions! I just couldn't take it anymore…I-I-I just had to show you two fucks the error of your ways."

"Dad!" Jake blurted again, not knowing what to say to the madman who stood before him.

"Your mother must've liked having a couple convicts for sons!" he shouted viciously, "She must've like seeing her boys disgrace the Cavanaugh family name! She was too naïve and stupid and look at her now! She's dead Jacob, she's fucking dead and it's your entire fault you miserable hoodlum you!"

Jake's breathing increased rapidly as his focus darted back and forth between his mother's corpse and his gun-toting father, who looked ready to pull the trigger at any second.

"I'm going to do what I should've done a long time ago…" the man said, aiming the gun right at Jake's chest.

"Dad, no!!!" yelled Jake as he ran forward and wrestled his dad for the gun. The two of them fell on the floor as they continued wrestling for the firearm.

"You insolent bastard… You made me do it! You piece of shit!" his father growled trying to grab him.

"Dad, please!!!" pleaded Jake.

"I'm going to kill you, if it's the last thing I do!!!" the man yelled.

The two rolled around trying to keep the gun away from each other. By now the old man was on top of Jake, trying to choke the life out of him. Jake was coughing, gagging and gasping for air as he tried desperately to break free.

"Ack…" Jake went as he could feel his breathing restricted by the man's large hands.

The teenager was about to pass out. His father was much stronger than him and about to bash his skull into the floor to gain the upper hand. Moving his hands around, Jake managed to grab hold of the gun while the life was continuously choked out of him. Impulsively, Jake raised the gun and pressed it against the chest of his father.

On pure instinct, he pulled the trigger three times and from there he could only hear the loud bangs echo in his ears.

His father's eyes went wide as he slowly released the grip on his son's neck.

"Uggghhh…so cold…" Mr. Cavanaugh said as he somehow rose to his knees. He looked down to see blood coming out of three holes in his chest. It suddenly registered that he had been shot and he began coughing out blood.

"Dad?!?" went a frightened Jake, shocked by what he had just done.

"Uggghhh…" the man gasped before he died.

"Oh God…No! No!!!"

Jake immediately dropped the gun and stormed out the front door. He was very distraught about the course of action he had taken. He had always told himself one of these days there was going to be an altercation and one of them wouldn't be walking away under their own volition, he had no idea it would end in death.

This would be his first killing. Ironically, it was the killing of his own father.

"_Another moment I will never forget, the night I committed my first murder. Despite everything he had done to me, I seriously never thought it would be my own father. He might've been a bastard to my family and I, but to this day I still question myself if even he deserved such a fate._

"_This incident happened only a few weeks after my high school graduation and I had nowhere to go. I couldn't go to any of my remaining friends; my siblings would probably turn me in if I stuck around and none of the teachers I did get along with back in school could've helped me out either._

"_I had to get out of Somerset and I had to go to the one person who could've helped me out…my brother."_

The sound of police sirens filled the air once again, followed by the hiss of teargas, the discharge of firearms, the smashing of glass and the screech of tires.

"Cease and desist immediately!" an officer barked through a megaphone as citizens rioted beneath him.

"_I found my brother alright, during the middle of the Los Santos Riots."_

Jake and his older brother Ryan rushed into a back alley, narrowly dodging a cluster of bullets fired in their direction.

"Where are we going to hide?" Jake huffed struggling to keep up with his older brother.

"We've gotta get over to Willow Field!" Ryan shouted back, "I've got a friend over there who has a bomb shelter we can hide in! There might be a few guys there already!"

"But that's six blocks away from us! We'll never make it in time!" Jake shouted back as he narrowly dodged a Molotov cocktail thrown in his direction.

"We're going to make it bro', if it's the last thing we do!" Ryan shouted scooping a brick and tossing it back at the gang member who had thrown the Molotov cocktail at them.

The alley ended in front of a gas station where riotous citizens smashed the windows and leapt in grabbing whatever they could. A police cruiser had pulled up out front, only to be swarmed immediately by a gang of angry citizens, who dragged the officer from his car and beat him to death and then proceeded to smash his car up before setting it ablaze.

Looking down, Ryan found a Beretta 9mm. lying on the ground and scooped it up, firing at the crowd and dropping three people. The other people were scared away by the gunfire and dispersed.

"C'mon, let's go!" Ryan shouted and bolted across the street, narrowly escaping a delivery truck that came speeding down and collided with a watch shop.

Jake dutifully followed after his older brother, ducking down to dodge anything thrown at him and then tackling his way through a few citizens who had come charging in his direction.

The two brothers continued their desperate trek through the war torn streets until they came to a line of small one-story houses. "Okay, we should be close!" Ryan shouted back.

"Hey look, it's that cracka' bitch who's been workin' for the Families!" a ghetto-accented voice called out.

Looking to their right, the brothers found a gang of purple-clad gang members who had been in the midst of looting two adjacent homes, only to stop what they were doing upon spotting Ryan.

"Get 'im and get the bitch wit' 'im!" one of the thugs called out.

The elder Cavanaugh brother raised his pistol and started firing into the crowd of Glen Park Ballas, dropping a few of them until he ran out.

"Jake, get moving now!" Ryan shouted back to him tossing the empty gun aside, only to be caught by a bullet in the shoulder as he turned around.

"Ryan!" Jake screamed rushing over to catch his wounded brother. Moving as quickly as possible, he dragged his wounded brother into another alley.

"Damn, that bastard got me pretty bad!" Ryan grunted into his ear.

"Save your strength bro', just tell me where to find this place so I can get you to safety!" Jake shouted back, failing to hide his desperation as he heard the Ballas' footsteps behind them.

More gunshots rang out and Ryan screamed in pain as the bullets caught him in the lower back, shattering his spinal cord.

"Ryan!" Jake hollered again, struggling with the weight of his wounded brother.

"Jake…you'll have to leave me…" the elder brother gasped coughing out more blood.

"No! I'm not leaving you!" Jake shouted, remembering how he had already failed to save Ashley and his mother.

"Do it!" his brother growled, "I'm only going to slow you down… Please…I'd rather have one of us make it out of this alive than none at all…"

"But-"

"Go! Get out of here! Save yourself!" Ryan ordered using his remaining strength to shove his younger brother away.

The Ballas had caught up to the two brothers by now and were firing away once again, forcing the unarmed Jake to duck away.

"Run!!!" Ryan screamed.

Jake gave one last look to his fallen brother, who gave him an assuring look that he was doing the right thing. He didn't want to do it, but his brother was right. One of them would have to live another day.

"I'm sorry…" he muttered towards his older brother and turned on his heel running away.

"_Everybody thinks I only 'heard through various sources' that my older brother had been killed in a gang fight, that's what everybody else thinks. What nobody knows is that I really was there when my brother died. I didn't watch him die with my own eyes, but I knew he didn't make it out of Los Santos alive._

"_He told me to save myself, but what I wouldn't have done to go back and save him. I failed to save my friends, my girlfriend, my mother and now my own brother. Somebody up there sure loved watching me suffer…"_

Jake ran down the Los Santos street, now with no idea of where to go having left his brother behind in that back alley. Everything was a blur as he ran blindly with cops, gang members and civilians fighting all around him. He just wanted to find someplace he could hide until everything died down.

"Where do ya' think you're goin' GSF bitch?" another thug called out trying to slash at him with a switchblade.

Fortunately Jake saw the man coming and floored him with a spinning heel kick. Whoever the man was, he was knocked unconscious from the attack and his outfit revealed him as one of the Ballas, the gang who had just murdered his brother.

"Murdering bastard!!!" the young man screamed as he picked up the blade and started hacking away at the fallen man, wanting him to suffer for what they did to his brother.

"Dorsey!!!" a youthful voice called out.

Jake looked up to see a pre-teen African-American standing before him with tears streaming down his face.

"Brother!" the child called out.

Pangs of humanity suddenly hit the young man and he looked down at the dead man before him. Jake then looked back up at the kid before him, who had now lost a brother because of him. He knew the boy would certainly report him if he kept him alive, but there just wasn't something that would let him do it, something human inside of him.

"_That boy was just a kid, still at an age where he was innocent. His brother may have died, but he didn't deserve too. Something just hit me and ever since that day, I vowed that I would never intentionally harm innocents."_

The shatter of glass was heard and as if he was waking from a dream, Jake now found himself in a small dive bar about to be punched by a large man in biker attire.

"Shit," Jake muttered to himself as he dodged the man's attack and delivered a roundhouse kick followed by a spinning heel kick and then a sweep that took the big man down.

An all too familiar click came from behind Jake and he turned to find another biker pointing a Colt Python at his face.

"Say goodnight kid," the biker taunted, but was cut off by a barstool to the back of his head.

"Hey, you alright man? Let's get out of here!" the man spoke and Jake clenched his teeth together at the sight of the man.

It was his former best friend turned worst enemy, Tyler "Viper" Denton.

"_Viper! This is back when we first met. I was at this dive bar in the middle of nowhere frequented by some nobody biker gang when one of them decided to talk smack to me. Needless to say, I talked shit right back and from there, the place descended into chaos with twenty men trying to kill me, that is until Viper saved my life."_

The world around Jake and Viper rippled and Jake looked down to find himself dressed in his current gear, his black trench coat, black cargo pants and Red Dragon t-shirt. He was now in a back alley and furthermore, now joined by Eddie, Fingers, Tony and Fox.

"You guys ready to go? We've got quite a job ahead of us," Viper explained to his five comrades.

In a rattle of automatic fire, Fingers, Tony and Fox's bullet-riddled corpses lay on the ground before him. An additional shot rang out and now Eddie fell to the pavement with a bullet in the side of his head. Looking up, Jake saw Viper standing before him with a sadistic grin on his face.

"Remember this Jake?" he cackled as he pulled the trigger and again, everything went black.

"_We had a damn good job going until that snake in the grass Viper stabbed us in the back and made off with the loot. He killed four good men and left me for dead, valuing the almighty dollar over friendship._

"_You were like a fucking brother to me Viper and then you go off and pull this shit, and for what? You wanted a few more dollars than the guys? Wanted a fancier hideout than everybody else? Wanted more cars than us altogether? Wanting more whores than us? Trivial things compared to the power of brotherly bonds._

"_A lot of people died because of your greed, I hope Satan was kind enough to inform you of that the minute you descended into Hell._

"_I was stupid enough to let my guard down on that cold night, but in the end I paid that asshole back. I made sure that bastard would never hurt anybody ever again when I gave him that burial at sea."_

A wave of pain assailed Jake as he lay dormant; burning in the very spot he had been shot by his supposed best friend. Like a hard slap across the face, he was jolted awake and bolted upright, drenched in layers of ice cold sweat.

"Fuckin' A…" Jake muttered to himself as he blinked his eyes rapidly and looked around, only to find himself now lying in the middle of a deserted nighttime street.

"Somerset?" he asked himself, scanning the area for any signs of identification where he lay, but he stopped as his eyes met a newsstand.

_THE DAILY RACCOON_

"Shit!" Jake blurted out rising back to his feet as he expected the undead to come looking for him. Instead of seeing the death and decay he remembered of Raccoon City, everything looked calm and untouched by any signs of a viral outbreak.

"That's weird…" he trailed off as he walked aimlessly down the street before him, passing shops, restaurants, clubs and apartment buildings that reminded him much of Somerset. "Wonder if anybody else is around, anybody from back at the bar or the R.P.D. I wonder?"

An unearthly, sorrowful moan pierced the air, the kind Jake had grown accustomed to during his stay in the necropolis. Again, he was prompted to reach for a firearm, only to find himself unarmed.

The sound of dragging footsteps drew Jake's attention to a nearby alley, where an entire army of zombies emerged from the darkness. Like he had seen, they came in all different shapes and sizes, but they were all adults and were dressed like gangs he had encountered throughout his time as a career criminal: The Diablos, Triads, Uptown Yardies, Glen Park Ballas, Los Santos Vagos, Haitians and the Colombian Cartel.

Turning to his right, more zombies emerged from side alleys, and this time now broke through windows and magically appeared from shadows everywhere lurching towards him.

"What's the matter Yankee Boy? Don't you recognize us?" a zombie dressed as a member of the Colombian Cartel asked, "We're all the fellow criminals you've killed over the past few years!"

"And now you join us, essa!" added a zombified Diablo.

"Never!!!" the criminal defiantly roared as he charged the two zombies and performed a flying cross body attack that took them down. Rolling back to his feet he tackled and clotheslined his way through anything that stood in his way, flailing his arms madly as he tried to avoid being bitten.

With no definite destination in mind, a door suddenly materialized before the career criminal. The zombified gang members closing in on him, he nearly ripped the door from its hinges and threw himself inside.

Rock music filling his ears as soon as he locked the door behind him, the career criminal turned around to find himself back in J's Bar, just the way it was when the outbreak began. Doing their usual routines, each of the survivors had gathered like nothing happened. Everything seemed normal at first, until Jake got a closer look at Cindy walking by and noticed something horribly wrong.

They were now zombies themselves!

"Hello Jake, nice of you to finally join us!" the zombie version of Cindy hissed, dropping her tray and lurching towards the criminal with rotting arms extended.

"Hey yeah, we were wonderin' when you were gonna be showin' up!" the undead version of Mark growled getting up from the bar to make his move.

All around him, zombie versions of the outbreak survivors he had fought desperately to survive the undead-filled streets with.

Cindy Lennox, Mark Wilkins, Kevin Ryman, David King, Jim Chapman, Alyssa Ashcroft, Yoko Suzuki, George Hamilton, Bob Turner, Eric Sampson, Miranda Bennett, John Roper, Dale Jeffers, Lenny Bryce and Will the Bartender. All of them stood before him, in various states of decay and lusting for his warm human flesh.

"Been a while since we've had ourselves a good meal, be even better if you're willing to oblige," Zombie Kevin rasped taking a swipe at the criminal, who ducked under his attempt.

"Leaving so soon?" asked the zombie George, "We were just getting started!"

Jake ignored the now zombified surgeon's comment and bolted through the crowd of undead, towards the back door that would lead to the second floor stairs. Miraculously, the door was unlocked and the criminal threw himself in.

Instead of finding the stairs however, Jake found himself on a war torn street surrounded by burning buildings, smashed cars and dead bodies lying everywhere. The rattle of gunfire sounded from ahead and he was met by another familiar face.

"McGraw!!!"

Ahead of him, Officer David McGraw stood alone at a barricade of squad cars, firing madly at a crowd of thousands walking towards him.

"Jake, you've gotta get out of here!" the S.W.A.T. officer shouted back, ejecting an empty M4A1 clip and slamming in a new one. "There are thousands of them and they're growing with every passing second!"

The career criminal ignored the officer's order and rushed to the barricade, only to stand still in disbelief once again.

More zombies marched towards the two survivors at a slow, yet methodical pace. Once again, they were all people he knew.

"Well look who decided to show up after all!" a once youthful voice, now a sinister cackle called out.

Leon Kennedy marched towards him, his skin now pale and rotting. The former rookie flashed a pair of broken yellow teeth towards him as he raised his arms. His once fresh R.P.D. uniform was now tattered and covered in blood, made sicker by the sight of maggots emerging from his bullet wound sustained at the hands of Annette.

"And looking tastier than ever," Claire Redfield spoke next to him, now a hollow, lifeless shell of her former self. Several bullet holes dotted her chest and a few arrows from her bow gun were embedded all throughout her body.

Several more zombies followed, including versions of Sherry Birkin, Jill Valentine, Ada Wong, Eric Rawlings, Samantha Russell, Ace, Sebastian Ramsey, Carlos Oliveira, Ace, Raymond Granberg, Wade Foreman and tons of other familiar faces staggering drunkenly towards the two men.

"You might as well give it up Jake!" shouted the Zombie Jill, "Umbrella has won! There is nothing more you can do about it!"

Jake stared silently towards the approaching group, knowing it was a hopeless battle with him unarmed and David alone as backup. The S.W.A.T. officer continued firing away madly at the deathly horde, even his head shots seemingly having no effect. This battle was lost and they needed to escape.

"Come on McGraw, we have to-" Jake was cut off in mid-sentence.

Looking down at the S.W.A.T. officer's arm, he saw a large chunk had been ripped from the man's bicep. Having taken notice of the criminal's reaction, David stopped firing upon the crowd and pulled of his riot helmet.

"Jake you gotta help me…" David McGraw spoke as he began shaking and then started to convulse violently, "I…I…I can't…stop it anymore…" he continued as his skin began to turn pale, "I'm b-b-becoming…one of them…you're gonna…have to…shoot…shoot…me…"

Right before his very eyes, his former acquaintance gradually transformed into one of the living dead, chunks of his brown hair falling out at a rapid pace, his blue eyes glossing over into a sick, soulless shade of white, his once peach skin now pale and cracking to expose the muscle beneath and a foamy froth escaping his lips, turning into an acidic substance as it made contact with the damp concrete.

Doubling over, the now former human stood in place with his head lowered and arms hanging limply at his sides. A sickly hiss followed and he shot his head back up to look at Jake.

"You should've shot me when you had the chance!" Zombie David roared mockingly, baring his bloody yellow teeth.

Jake raised his fists ready to fight, only to have both his arms yanked backward followed by his legs being pulled in opposite directions before he was hoisted off the ground in one swift motion.

"What gives?" he shouted trying to free his limbs, only to experience great pain as he did. Waving one of his arms in front of him he finally saw the large string tied around it. "What the hell is going on now?"

A booming, icy laugh sounded from above to answer his inquiry, a laugh which sent him into a furious rage.

"Wesker!!!" he hollered looking upward to see the villainous former S.T.A.R.S. captain towering over him as a giant. Strings were tied around each of his massive fingers, all of which led back down to him.

"Yes Jake, now you see yourself for what you truly have been all along. You were my personal puppet, mine to use and abuse at my own convenience!" he snickered playfully, "You should have accepted my offer Mr. Cavanaugh, because like any true puppet master…" the madman pulled out a pair of scissors, "I can cut your strings at any time!"

With a snip of the scissors above, Jake was cut free and found himself falling further and further into the void of nothingness, until the mutated William Birkin appeared beneath him with claws ready.

"Aw crap…" the criminal muttered, but could do nothing as the former human drew its massive claw back and took a swing.

Instead of feeling the claw strike his body and slash him into tiny pieces, Jake grunted as he struck a grassy bottom.

"Wha…" Jake blurted aloud, expecting to be lying in a million tiny pieces, but he felt no pain at all. He felt very nice actually, great warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. The warmth of sunlight beamed down upon him, bringing his eyes open to view a clear blue sky above him.

Slowly rising to a sitting position, he was finally able to take in the natural aroma of pine trees surrounding him and with it, the smell of barbecued food wafting over from nearby. The laughter of children followed mixed in with the barking of a large dog.

"Kids, the burgers are ready! You'd better come and get them while they're still hot!" a woman called out.

"That voice!" Jake said rising to his feet and looking in the direction of where it came, only to stand in a stunned silence once again. Before him was something that shouldn't have been there.

Passing out plates on a spread out blanket was his beloved Ashley, and she looked like she had aged slightly as if she had been around years longer. Next to her an adorable infant girl crawled on the blanket and she carefully scooped it up to give it a kiss on the head.

"We're coming Mom!" a young boy called out.

Rushing towards the picnic area was a dark-haired boy of ten years followed by two more children, one a slightly younger boy who was also dark-haired and the other a girl with hair and eyes that matched those of Ashley. What stood out to him the most was that both of the boys looked exactly like him when he was little. One by one the kids sat down around the blanket and were handed platefuls of food.

Having given each of the kids their lunch Ashley looked over her shoulder and called out, "Oh Jake, sweetie! You'd better get over here and get yourself a nice juicy burger before the kids steal them on you!"

"I'm coming honey!" a masculine voice responded as a figure approached them.

For Jake Cavanaugh it was like he was looking at himself in the mirror. The man approaching the family was a mirror image of himself, but yet it was also dramatically different at the same time.

This alternate version of Jake Cavanaugh was clean-shaven and properly groomed, had no tattoos, was dressed in nice clothing and overall, appeared to be much happier than what had known all throughout his life.

"It's me…" Jake said to himself as he watched the alternate reality version of himself leading a German Shepherd, the kind of dog he had always wanted growing up, over to the picnic area and taking a seat next to Ashley and the oldest boy.

"Daddy!" the older girl called out, running over to his alternate self and throwing her arms around him, "I missed you so much!"

"And I missed you too my sweet little pumpkin," the alternate Jake spoke, hugging his daughter back and kissing her on the forehead.

Jake Cavanaugh stood off in the distance and stared at the family that dined happily before him without a care in the world. He couldn't help but feel a sense of envy, as this had always been the perfect, loving family he had yearned for growing up, but he also couldn't help but feel great warmth at what he saw before him.

"_Maybe this is what was supposed to have been. Maybe this is what my life would have been like had Ashley lived. Maybe I would've never gone off and become a career criminal if she had survived…God my life could've been so much better if she were still around and we'd gotten married. Looks like I was destined to have kids after all and furthermore, given them the happy childhood I didn't have growing up. To think how one woman could've changed my life so much…"_

He watched as his alternate self leaned over to kiss Ashley, but before their lips could meet a bolt of lightning struck and in a flash, the career criminal was transported to another locale.

Gone was the bright happiness of the park, now replaced by the grim solitude of a cemetery at night.

Jake once again stood silently as he looked off towards the surrounding hills lined with tombstones and mausoleums, wondering what he could be doing here all of a sudden.

"Quite a tragedy wasn't it?" an elderly voice called out, snapping the criminal out of his thoughts.

"What?" Jake said as he spun around to find an elderly gravedigger reclining against his shovel, a pipe in one hand.

"Didn't cha' hear 'bout that poor Cavanaugh chap?" the gravedigger asked in a thick Irish-accented tone, "They done did a good number on him. Poor boy barely had any time left in him."

"What the hell are you talking about old man?" Jake growled getting in the man's face, "Just what he hell happened to this "poor Cavanaugh chap?"

The old man smiled sinisterly, "Have a look friend!" he said motioning towards a nearby marker.

Laying his eyes upon the large tombstone, Jake's eyes suddenly grew as wide as saucers.

"_HERE LIES JACOB CAVANAUGH SENTENCED TO BURN ETERNALLY IN HELL FOR HIS CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY."_

"There's only one thing left to do now!" another voice called out, this one making the blood in his veins freeze upon contact.

That voice, he recognized it as…his own!

Whirling around on his heel, Jake was met by a figure obscured in shadows walking towards him. The figure remained silent as it kept moving forth and gradually stepped into the light. When the light finally shone upon its being, the criminal was forced to gasp aloud in astonishment and horror.

Standing just a few feet away from him was another mirror image of himself, clad in the same clothing and brandishing a 9mm. handgun. The only difference this time was that his clone was covered in blood and riddled with bullets, including one lodged between his eyes.

Without warning the alternative Jake Cavanaugh raised its pistol and spoke.

"Die!"

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

The flurry of bullets struck Jake Cavanaugh head on and he fell backwards until the final bullet struck him between the eyes. He felt nothing after that as he sunk to the ground, lying in front of the tombstone meant for him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"NO!!!"

Jake Cavanaugh screamed loudly to an unseen assailant as he bolted upright in bed.

Expecting to see Wesker or some other tormentor in front of him, instead he was met by a dull concrete wall and grunted as he now felt the pain traveling through his upper torso. An additional chill from the layers of sweat indicated that his shirt had been removed.

"Now what gives?" he asked quietly looking down to find his lower left arm bandaged up and then to the bandages wrapped around his ribs. "Who did this I wonder?" he thought to himself.

Slowly standing up, the criminal was met by the sight of black iron bars before him, barring a possible exit from the small cell he now sat in. He appeared to be in a jail of some sorts and then it suddenly hit him how he could've gotten here.

"Wesker!" he thought to himself approaching the bars and peering out into the hall for any guards. There were no soldiers in sight and he now focused his attention on seeing if there were other prisoners present.

Like the man had suddenly appeared from thin air, he took note of someone in the cell across from him.

"Hey you!" he called out towards the man, "Where the hell am I? Tell me now!"

Sighing heavily, the man turned around, revealing himself to be a young, well-built man in his late twenties with slicked back dark brown hair. He stood a few inches shorter than Jake and wore a navy blue undershirt, blue jeans and a pair of boots. A strange black tattoo ran all the way down his right arm, which when looked at closely enough read "Mother Love."

The man eyed him closely and gave him a look of sarcasm mixed with frustration. "If you ask me, you're in Hell!"

A/N: Once again I have returned and in this case probably stolen 48 hours of your life away! Ha ha, just kidding. I know that a lot of what I say in here is basically me rehashing what I said in the prologue, but I realize that right there I probably committed overkill by releasing so many details about Jake's past right away. In a way, I feel like I might be doing it the right way this time around and I added new elements in addition to allowing us to get inside Jake's head with a first-person perspective to keep things fresh and interesting.


	48. Chapter 42: Doing Time

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Chapter 42: Doing Time

"Is that so?" Jake replied, grabbing a bar with his good hand, "I expected hellfire and brimstone, maybe a cameo by Jack the Ripper and Hitler here and there," he chuckled bitterly, "guess I got a discount."

The nameless man smirked and leaned against the bars, letting his hands hang limply in front of him, "Must have, but this place isn't much better. Uncomfortable beds, poor heating and cooling, having to do your "dirty work" in plain sight of the person across from you, poorly adequate meals, no access to a shower, asshole guards…I wouldn't say we're in Hell, but we're pretty damn close."

"I agree with you there," Jake chuckled back before continuing, "Then again, I've done some stuff that hasn't exactly gotten me on Wesker's good side, probably figures I deserve it."

"Judging by the bandages, I'd say they did a pretty good number on you," the man spoke, remarking on the criminal's bandages. "So tell me friend, or Mr. Red Dragon Tattoo Guy," the man spoke referencing his trademark tattoo, "Do you have a name? I figure since you and I are probably going to be here for a while I should at least know who you are. If not, then I'll just call you "Bob" like everybody else."

"Jake, Jake Cavanaugh," he replied, "Although some people do call me 'The Red Dragon,' and you are?"

"Coen, Billy Coen. I'd shake your hand, but as you can see there's a little "problem" standing in our way," the man named Billy spoke, stretching his arm towards him as a gesture.

"Jake Cavanaugh as in the wanted felon?" a new voice called out, "Wanted for numerous counts of murder and a whole shitload of other offenses!"

The career criminal looked to his right, knowing the new voice had come from the cell next door, spoken in the prying tone of a reporter much like that of Alyssa and Ben.

"And who the hell are you?" Jake said wrapping on the bars, hoping to make the intruder jump.

"Kip Willows, investigative reporter," the figure replied, "I know who you are Mr. Cavanaugh, you've got quite the price on your head, are you aware of that?"

Jake was now starting to get annoyed by this man's interference and judging by Billy's reaction, he too was reaching the end of his chain with the other man. "No Captain Obvious, I sort of got my ass kicked by some freak claiming to be the "next step in human evolution" and had half the sense knocked out of me. Care to enlighten me?"

"Very funny, bet you'll be laughing when I get back in touch with my buddies in the L.C.P.D. and get your ass thrown into a cell on Death Row," the reporter shot back.

"I'd watch my tongue if I were you pal," Jake growled back, "If these bars weren't here to stop me I'd gladly come over there and show you what "death row" was all about."

"I second that motion," Billy chipped in, "I've been having to hear your ramblings about "getting your Pulitzer" for the last three days. Believe me Kippy Boy, I'm about ready to come over there and beat your skull in myself."

"Count me in boys!" a gruff, older voice called out. In the cell next to Billy, a lone figure appeared gripping the bars like he was about to pull them apart. He was a middle-aged man in his forties with short black hair trimmed closely to his head and was dressed like a soldier from Carlos's unit, wearing tan cargo pants, a green t-shirt underneath a black combat harness, fingerless combat gloves and black combat boots.

"I'm reaching the end of my chain too with Newsboy and if I had my gun, I'd surely put a bullet in that smug face of his."

"Settle down you people, will you?" a feminine voice called out in the cell to Billy's right.

There were two people in the other cell opposite of Billy. Speaking out was an African-American woman in her early thirties with her dark hair pulled back into a bun and wearing a yellow lab coat identifying her as an Umbrella researcher. Sharing the cell with her was a man shorter than Billy of Hispanic descent with short black hair. He too was dressed like a soldier, in a full black combat outfit much like the H.C.F. commandos and had a pair of shades clipped to his combat vest.

"You're with Umbrella lady, so why the hell should I listen to you?" Kip called out, "It was your company that started this mess and I have no reason to listen to a murderer like you!"

"Our company may have started this mess, but at least my colleague and I were trying to set things right when everything went to shit in Raccoon!" the woman shouted back.

"All of you settle down will you!" another feminine voice called out, this one from the cell to Jake's immediate left. "We're never going to get out of this mess if you keep fighting amongst yourselves! Wesker and his men are surely going to win this thing if they know we can't get along."

"Been elaborating escape plans while I was out?" Jake asked, waving a hand towards the woman.

"We would, but we don't know if that slimy bastard has our cells wired or not," the woman regretfully replied, "I'm afraid if we say anything involving "escape," he'll probably send one of his boys down and shoot us dead."

"She's right," the Hispanic man spoke, "Yesterday there was some dude in your cell who used to be one of his own," he said pointing directly to Jake's cell. "Apparently he didn't want to go through with a mission involving killing a bunch of civvies, so they threw him in here with us.

"He talked about some secret tunnels he knew of for an escape," the man's tone darkened, "Next thing you know, two of Wesker's boys came down here and shot him dead right in front of all of us."

Jake looked down to the dull gray floor of his cell and noticed a few dried reddish-brown spots spread out around him. To him it looked like the man had been shot dead and then they had hastily tried to scrub his blood away.

"Heh, charming to know," Jake darkly quipped, "Any of you new folks got names?"

"I'm Alyssa Redmond," the unseen woman spoke next to him, "I was a researcher with Umbrella…a high emphasis on "was" just to keep Mr. Willows over there happy." He then saw a delicate-looking hand with well-manicured red fingernails stick out pointing to the people across, "The woman across from me is Dr. Linda Rafferty and the man with her is Armando Rodriguez, a member of the U.S.S. The guy over there next to Mr. Coen is Arnold Cobbs, a member of U.B.C.S."

"Alyssa Redmond?" Jake asked aloud, "I remember you now, Sebastian mentioned you, Sebastian Ramsey."

A soft gasp followed before she spoke, "Sebastian! You saw Sebastian?" she asked hurriedly, "Oh my god is he alright? Please tell me he is! I left Raccoon City without him and…oh God I shouldn't have left him behind like that! Please tell me what happened to him!" she spoke sounding like she was on the verge of tears.

Jake remained silent, letting her know the outcome wasn't good. The tense silence continued until she finally started to get it and began sobbing quietly before the criminal finally spoke.

"He didn't make it, I'm sorry," Jake replied, short and straight to the point.

"Damn it, I knew I shouldn't have left him behind like that in Raccoon City," she said to herself, "I should've gotten him and then gotten the hell out of that accursed place when I had the chance."

Deep down Jake felt bad for the woman and her loss. He remembered reading in Sebastian's diary that he had begun to develop a genuine romantic interest in his fellow researcher and pictured what things could have been like for them had they both made it out alive.

"It's not your fault Alyssa, don't beat yourself up over it," Linda spoke gesturing that she would place a hand on her shoulder if she could. "Umbrella lied to all of us. At least you did what you thought was right."

Shifting gears abruptly, a new conversation picked up.

"So Cavanaugh tell me, just what did a piece of work like yourself do to end up here of all places?" Billy asked reclining against the nearest cement wall with arms crossed in front of him.

"Yeah, start talking criminal!" Kip barked out next to him, "I wanna know what the hell you were doing that landed you here in the first place!"

Jake was now severely irritated by the nosey reporter and could no longer disguise his anger towards him, "If you don't shut the hell up, I'm going to punch my way through this wall and rip your tongue out and strangle you with it! I hope I'm able to make myself clear pal!"

Silence was the only reply from the reporter following Jake's outburst. Knowing he had scared the man silent, the career criminal began explaining himself to those around him.

"Alright, I was in Raccoon City on a mission. Somebody wanted some schmuck scientist for Umbrella named William Birkin dead and to put a long story short, I was the unlucky bastard called up for the job."

A collective gasp came from Alyssa and Linda, "Dr. Birkin? I knew he was a bastard, but I had no idea somebody had it out for him enough to send a hit man after him," the African-American researcher spoke.

"Well apparently they did and that somebody happened to be Wesker," Jake continued, "Anyways, I managed to do the deed and take Birkin out. I was supposed to be paid ten million dollars for the hit and was on my way to meet my "mysterious benefactor," who turned out to be that slimy bastard Wesker. He had my money and everything, but that wasn't all. He wanted me to work for him and H.C.F., basically I said "Fuck that" and killed a bunch of his boys and so that explains what I'm doing here."

Billy whistled at his brief story, "Damn, no wonder he decided to rough you up."

"I'm surprised he didn't kill you after that," Alyssa added.

"What about you?" Jake asked looking at Billy, "You don't look like one of Umbrella's boys and you obviously aren't some nosey ass reporter, so what brings you to these 'fine surroundings?'"

Billy sat down on his bunk and then spoke, "I was in Raccoon City myself when I got caught. I was looking for a friend who helped me out a while back named Rebecca Chambers. I heard about all the crazy shit going down and knew she'd probably need the help, so I went there trying to return the favor, only to find the place overrun by the living dead.

"Needless to say, I couldn't find her anywhere and was trying to make my own way out when that shithead jumped me and I wound up here."

"Guess I'm not alone then, good to know," Jake chuckled and then looked over to the others.

"So how did everybody else wind up in this shithole?"

One by one the other prisoners would take their turn to tell their side of the story.

Alyssa started, basically reciting everything he had read in Sebastian's diary. She told the others how she had been part of a top secret Umbrella viral research group, but became disgusted by what she was forced to produce and decided she wanted out.

Coming into contact with a secret anti-Umbrella resistance group, she had begun to collect evidence against them and had managed to enlist the help of Sebastian Ramsey and seemed to be going somewhere with her work, until she believed the higher-ups had started to get suspicious of her and decided it would be best to leave the city.

Making her way out of the city, she was eventually captured when she had been run off the road by a mysterious Hummer and was then blindfolded and thrown in the back, only to awaken where she was now.

Linda was next to speak, sharing her story with Rodriguez.

She too was an Umbrella researcher who had become fed up with her company's shady dealings and decided to do something about it. Working closely with her research colleague Carter, they had been in the process of mass producing a vaccine for the T-Virus when the outbreak occurred.

With the lab now overrun by her company's own creations, it was only through the assistance of a young aspiring novelist named Nathan Farnsworth that she had managed to escape the building alive.

Before their escape, they had managed to radio an escape chopper and were on their way to meeting up with Rodriguez when she had been shot down by a sniper, evidenced by the heavy bandaging on her leg. Their escape attempt was further hampered by the appearance of another company B.O.W. codenamed "Tyrant."

The rest of the story had to be told by Rodriguez as Linda had passed out from the pain.

The aforementioned Nathan and a few other survivors, whose names escaped him at the moment, carried Linda to the evac chopper and one of them, who had previously been a combat medic, stayed behind with them while the others went on to battle the Tyrant. In a back and forth battle that saw two people killed by the beast, the young author had managed to procure a rocket launcher and blew the beast into oblivion.

With the threat eliminated and the city just minutes away from decimation, the survivors piled into the chopper and off they flew into the morning sunrise. It wouldn't be an easy escape though as electromagnetic pulses from the explosion disabled the chopper in mid-air and forced a crash landing.

The next thing they knew, they both awakened in their cell unaware of where they were until Kip would inform everybody.

Kip went in-depth telling everybody of how he was an investigative reporter who had been closely following the Umbrella Corporation's dealings, suspecting them of manufacturing illegal biological weapons, which the other cellmates were indeed able to attest.

Following a tip from hikers accosted by mysterious workers in unmarked vehicles, he later made his way to what he believed to be a hidden Umbrella facility located on Verdant Mountain.

Upon arrival, he found what appeared to be a government-owned munitions factory and attempted to speak with employees, but was rudely turned away. Still feeling deeply suspicious, he attempted to infiltrate the facility only to be captured by the guards and dragged away to the cellblock where he stood now. The guards took everything on him, including his notes that were crucial to proving Umbrella's true activities.

The reporter's information brought some comfort in the sense that the criminal now knew where he was at, but why they were kept alive was the big question he was pondering. Clearly Wesker and company must have had something else in mind for him and his newfound companions.

"Heh, as annoying as you are, it's amazing they haven't used your ass for target practice already!" Arnold called out across from Kip.

Arnold's story didn't yield much in the way of important information, except that he had been on a mission with U.B.C.S. deep within the heart of Raccoon City and had been acting as a sniper when he was cut off from the rest of his unit. Alone and knowing the city was about to be nuked, he decided to make his escape and had reached the city's outskirts when he too found himself knocked out by an unseen force. As everybody else's story went, he wound up where he was now in the dank prison.

"So you've all been knocked out and woken up in the middle of a dank, depressing shithole too, looks like I'm part of a new club," Jake sardonically replied looking towards the bars before him that blocked his access to the outside world.

"Yeah, once again Jake welcome to the club," Billy said leaning hopelessly against the bars with arms hanging limply in front of him, "Now all you need is your official t-shirt and bumper sticker and you'll be complete," the ex-Marine chuckled before letting out a breathy sigh. "I really wish there was something I could do for you, for all of us. Sadly though, that freak probably has this place locked down tighter than Fort Knox and we'd probably be turned into Swiss cheese the second we stuck a foot out the nearest door."

"Yeah, well we can't give up hope just yet either," Alyssa replied, "We have to do something, but for now I'd suggest we keep our mouths shut until we get some free time. We don't know if he's listening in on us or not."

"Heh, right now I don't care if that shithead is listening in on us or not," Arnold spat, "I'm ready to hang him by his tongue after the crap he's been pulling and I'm daring him to come down here right now!"

"Great, another jarhead eager to lead us to the slaughter," Kip remarked next to Jake, "Remind me to look you up when my own self-fashioned noose doesn't do the trick. Now I know why I hate drunken rednecks so much."

"Shove it Newsy! You're gonna be next when I'm through with him!" Arnold snapped raising a clenched fist to the reporter, "I don't give a crap what the rest of you think, I want him first!"

Jake ignored the U.B.C.S. operative's comment and eased himself down onto the cot, yet still feeling the stings of pain travel throughout his torso from his bandaged ribs as he sat down. A barely audible grunt escaped his lips as he looked a little more closely at the dull gray walls surrounding him and then the toilet that was to the left of where he sat now.

Being in prison was nothing new for the career criminal as he had been apprehended numerous times in the past carrying out his various criminal deeds. A clever, cunning individual, no prison ever managed to hold him for long. Using the numerous skills he had amassed, he would either sneak his way out, blast his way out, or in most cases, could just bribe his way out with no bloodshed at all.

This time was different, this time he was held in a fortress-like complex out in the middle of nowhere, the prisoner of an inhuman madman who had used him as a pawn for his own nefarious deeds. He had literally risked his own life to tie up one of the man's loose ends and in return, the "man" had attempted to turn him into one of his slaves. For a moment the criminal had to curse himself, his greed had gotten the better of him when he accepted that assignment.

"I put my ass on the line for that mutant freak and for what, ten million dollars? Maybe I really should've thought twice before I accepted that mission," Jake thought to himself. Despite his regrets, he still had to think about what else could have happened.

"What if I had refused?" he wondered closing his eyes, "He knew where I lived and even had my cell phone number…maybe he would've tracked me down and shot me dead regardless. I could have tried to fight him, but even then I probably wouldn't have stood a chance. The question there being, how will I kill him if a bullet between the eyes couldn't even do the trick?"

Opening his eyes he looked over to Billy, who had by now collapsed onto his own cot with chin rested in his clasped knuckles, the look in his dark eyes indicating deep thought. Whoever he was, he came off as a tough man who had seen his own share of violence and bloodshed, horribly masked by his wisecracks.

Arnold and Rodriguez also looked like battle hardened soldiers who had probably been through a lot in the past few days. Judging by their stories, they definitely sounded like it and he could detect the sincerity of their tone indicating that they were bullshitting him.

Everybody else present in contrast seemed like ordinary civilians. In every other prison he had been housed, he was either surrounded by child molesters, white supremacists, drug pushers, plain hardened killers and other general scum, all of whom would be gunning for him once they learned of his notorious reputation, wanting to rip out his still beating heart and claim the notoriety of having been the man to eliminate the Red Dragon. None ever succeeded. In a way, these people were a welcome change, but still did not deserve to be here among vermin like him.

There had to be some way out of this place, which according to Kip sounded like one large sprawling complex with several underground levels. Inspecting the ventilation ducts of his cell, he could tell that they were immediately a no go, looking only large enough for a child around Sherry's size to maneuver through. Maybe when a guard passed through he could lure the man to his cell feigning sickness, only to grab the man with his good arm and then snap his neck. Once the guard was out of the way, he could then steal his keys and uniform, noting that Wesker's henchmen wore gasmasks that would shield his identity right away.

Once he was out of the cell, there was a strong possibility the guard would also be carrying a cardkey that he could use to bypass the doors and make his way to a car park, where there would hopefully be a car available for him to hotwire and then make his getaway.

The thought of the other prisoners suddenly made him change his train of thought and he looked over to those he could see.

Right now the cellblock had fallen mostly silent, save a few murmurs between the other inmates. What would become of them once he made his daring escape? They would be left behind to rot and left to the mercy of that tyrannical demon given flesh named Wesker, and probably be killed out of retaliation.

Normally he didn't consider himself a very compassionate person, but right now he knew that none of those people deserved to be left behind and suffer a possible death at the hands of that fiend. For once he would do something for someone other than himself, much like he had done back in Raccoon City. Back then he had cooperated out of mutual necessity, both for his own survival and that of the numerous people around him.

Now he was in another situation where others suffered along with him. He felt as if he had people underneath him who were truly depending on him to shepherd them to safety and he would do whatever he could to get them out of this mess alive. He would find a way to save them as well. It would be a tricky task to accomplish, but he would do something, even if it meant he had to shoot his way out of the entire complex.

"Damn, I could sure use a cold one right now…" Arnold muttered, speaking in Billy's direction.

"I second that notion," Billy replied, perking up slightly at the mention of beer.

An electronic ding rang out followed by the whine of a reinforced steel door sliding open. The other prisoners instantly jumped at the sound and promptly quieted down not knowing what to expect, if they were going to be given a meal, or if they were going to be hauled away to their eventual doom. Jake could tell by the looks on their faces something wasn't good and positioned himself on the edge of his cot.

Four black-clad H.C.F. commandoes carrying M-4 assault rifles walked down the hall, looking to the other prisoners before focusing their attention solely on Jake. Despite their faces being covered by gasmasks, he could tell based on their body language that they were leering sadistically towards him, knowing something was about to happen to him. The criminal only eyed them back contemptuously until another figure stepped in front of his cell.

"Why hello Mr. Cavanaugh, I see you have finally awakened," Albert Wesker scoffed, a shark-like grin crossing his face.

The sight of the H.C.F. supervisor made Jake suddenly lose whatever control he had over his emotions. Ignoring the pain already in his body, everything else dulled by his pure rage, the career criminal roared like a lion going in for the kill and leapt towards the bars, summoning strength in his left arm to grip the bars while his right arm shot through the bars trying to grab his hated adversary.

"Wesker you son of a bitch!" he screamed, "I'm going to fucking kill you!"

"I see you know how to warmly greet visitors," the supervisor chuckled nonchalantly, "Then again, you blow up just for the sake of looking tough, when you're just a pitiful worm like everybody else," he spoke looking to his men.

With a nod, the commando closest to Jake's cell pulled out a stun baton and charged it up, touching it against the bars that held the criminal in.

Several thousand volts of electricity passed through the iron bars, connecting with the criminal's body. Waves of excruciating pain shot through Jake's body as he struggled to reach the supervisor, still blinded by a rage he rarely invoked. Despite the wrath coursing through his veins, it wouldn't power him forever and he soon succumbed to the shockwaves traveling through his body, convulsing violently as his insides felt like they were on fire. Grunting loudly, he finally fell to the ground and landed hard on his side.

"Bas…tard…" the criminal muttered weakly, reaching for the supervisor only to drop his hand a second later.

Wesker scoffed at the remark and shook his head towards the fallen criminal, "Like I said, truly a pitiful example of mankind's selfish desires. You could have been something Jake; we could've made you into something, something much greater than a lowly mercenary career criminal," he continued kneeling down to look into the criminal's eyes, "But no, you had to take the biggest opportunity ever presented to you in your miserable existence and throw it all away, and for what, a few worthless bugs?

"You had to play some imaginary "virtuous hero-type" and conform to outdated puritanical ideals. I expected you to be a maverick, an individualistic rebel who played by your own rules, much like I heard from those testimonials from your previous employers. Sadly, I was proven wrong.

"You're no Grade A trained killer, Cavanaugh. You're like Redfield and the others, a mindless sheep chained to the standards of a dying society. If you can't join me under your own free will, then I will make you one of my own."

The pain still coursed throughout Jake's body as he lay on the cold concrete, still trying to push himself back to his feet. Despite his agony, he could register everything Wesker just said and wanted to make him pay. Some would say he probably had more guts than brains, that was far from the truth though for he saw someone before him who needed to be dealt with for the sake of those around him.

"Keep talking…asshole…" Jake grumbled, rolling over and pushing himself up to his knees, "Can't believe…you'd take it that…personally…that someone refuses…to be your bitch…" he chuckled and summoned the strength to return to his feet. "C'mon Wesker, if I'm that much of a disappointment…then go ahead and fucking kill me!" he dared hammering his clenched fist against his chest. "C'mon, I'm right here…fucking kill me you pussy! You want me dead so badly…fine, end my cursed existence! I won't stop you, go ahead and do it!"

Wesker only looked annoyingly towards the criminal for a few seconds, unlike his shark's grin returned and he began laughing.

"You must really play me for a fool Cavanaugh, don't you? I admire your efforts, but once again you have and will always fail."

Nodding to another henchman of his, the masked man raised a regular-looking pistol with a tunnel attached to the end and fired three silenced shots in succession.

POOF! POOF! POOF!

Jake shut his eyes and braced his body expecting to feel cool metal bullets rip through his flesh, but instead he slightly grimaced feeling three pricks in his chest. Opening his eyes, he looked down to see three needles sticking into his flesh. Quickly ripping them out and tossing them down to the ground, he looked back up to Wesker and his boys, only to feel his head getting really heavy.

"Feeling a little sleepy are we?" the H.C.F. supervisor chuckled.

"Damn you…killing me isn't even…good enough for…you…" Jake growled, his speech slurring as he spoke his last words. Everything within his field of vision suddenly began to swim and he watched as the blonde villain before him split into three different versions and the henchmen around him multiplied into the hundreds.

"Wesker you bastard, leave him alone!" Billy suddenly called out from his cell across, only to have the guard closest to him land a hard punch to his face. The ex-Marine reeled back from the blow before he too was struck by a tranquilizer dart and collapsed onto his cot as the sedative took effect.

Everybody else stared in silent horror throughout the entire episode, but the sight of Billy being attacked made them all gasp aloud. Noting the supervisor's quick reaction, they all fell back to their cots in unison, hoping they weren't next to face his wrath.

Jake could feel the sedatives taking full effect and by now his head felt like it weighed a ton with everything spinning. Staggering about, his legs seemingly turned to rubber and he fell to the floor. Everything he saw suddenly turned to liquid and began to ripple in front of him, even his own hand as he reached towards the ceiling.

"Yes, have a nice nap Mr. Cavanaugh, I promise to take good care of you," Wesker's voice echoed from above and then he heard nothing.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A cacophony of electronic beeps, hisses of hydraulic emissions and muffled voices sounded out from the darkness around him, stirring him from his brief hibernation. The noises began to grow louder and suddenly, the abyss around him didn't seem so dark. Like a flashback sequence, the world began to ripple around him as the noises grew louder and in an instance colors of numerous hues came to him in a kaleidoscopic effect, hurting his head and burning his closed eyes.

"Stabilizing life support systems," a voice called out, one he had never heard before in his life.

For the first time he finally made a sound, grunting heavily as a bright light cut through his darkness and enveloped everything within his field of perception. He grunted again as the light blinded him, forcing him to blink his eyes rapidly and things again rocked around him as he now began moving his head back and forth.

Adjusting his eyes to the light he could finally take note of several large golden lights above him on a sterile white ceiling, all overpowering him and finally forcing him to speak.

"Damn it, where the hell am I now?" he whispered and attempted to raise his right hand, only to find it held down by a steel restraint. "What?" he asked out loud and then moved his left arm, only to grunt loudly in pain and remember his wrist had been broken.

"It seems our guest has finally awakened," that familiar icy voice called out, causing every muscle in his body to tense at the sound of it and with it, Jake Cavanaugh finally shouted out.

"You!" the criminal cried and tried to lift his torso up, but quickly backed down as the pain in his ribs returned. The rage in his mind kept him trying to fight and he tried to lift his feet up, but found them also shackled to the table he now lay on.

"I'm afraid that's not going to help you any Mr. Cavanaugh, but since you insist on a face-to-face conversation, I can make that happen."

The clacking of keys sounded and with a light whoosh, the table Jake laid on rose to a vertical position.

He looked around as he was now given a better view of the room he was in. No longer was he in his cramped cell, but rather a large auditorium-like laboratory. Control consoles of various shapes and sizes surrounded him, along with large stasis tubes large enough to hold a human being up to seven feet tall. Before him stood Albert Wesker, surrounded by various scientists in white hazmat suits holding clipboards and typing away at consoles at both sides of where he stood. Looking up again, he could see large windows in the distance and behind them, another control room where more researchers, this time clad in utilitarian white lab coats, milled about flanked by several men in suits.

Another mechanical clanking came from above and the criminal looked up to see weird mechanical arms with needles on the end lowering towards him. A few of the researchers got close and began adjusting the arms so they were just inches away from his skin. Jake did everything he could, gnashing his teeth, cursing loudly and even trying to head butt them, but they ignored his threats and continued about their jobs. Being strapped down to the table, he was truly helpless to stop them, but yet refused to admit defeat.

"What the hell is this Wesker? Another one of your sick experiments," Jake asked angrily, "Why don't you just let me down and we'll end this thing between both of us!"

Wesker only scoffed at the remark. "Don't you ever give up? You'd think after all the punishment I've given you, you would have wised up by now. Hmm, well that does make you more interesting to toy with."

Jake growled at the remark and spat in the mutant supervisor's face, catching him in his mirrored sunglasses.

Once again, the supervisor scoffed at him and removed his shades, showing off his reddish-orange and yellow reptilian eyes. He walked with a confident stride toward the criminal and shot his hand up, clamping down hard enough on Jake's jaw to the point he was almost snapping it.

"You can smart off all you want you pathetic piece of shit," the supervisor half-growled, adopting a more sinister tone, "You were given an opportunity most would kill for and could have been granted so much more. I could easily kill you right here if I wanted to, the only reason I haven't yet is because I still see the potential to make you into a lethal weapon for my cause against Umbrella and the renegade S.T.A.R.S."

The mutant released his iron grip on the criminal's jaw and stepped back placing his shades back on. Jake flexed his facial muscles to help cope with the pain still coursing through his face and again spoke, "Jeez Wesker, make up your freaking mind. First you want me, then you wanna kill me and then back and forth, no wonder Umbrella wanted anything to do with you."

Wesker said nothing and snapped his fingers before crossing his arms again, signaling his subordinates to begin their work.

The loud hum of numerous consoles working in unison droned out every other sound in the room and Jake looked up as the needles moved closer to his flesh. He grunted in anguish as he again fought against his constraints, but to no avail. Sighing heavily in defeat, he again looked down to Albert Wesker who stood there with an expressionless visage, deep down though he could tell the man was about to enjoy whatever he had in mind.

"Just relax Mr. Cavanaugh," was all he said as numerous needles buried themselves into various points around Jake's body.

Looking around frantically, Jake watched as a mysterious reddish-orange fluid passed through one set of tubes attached to the robotic arm on his right, and then a sickly green fluid through the tubes to his left. Within seconds both fluids entered his system and his body experienced the highest level of pain he could ever recall in his entire life.

Gritting his teeth together, he convulsed beneath his restraints as his blood felt like it was on fire and his tendons were being pulled in a bunch of different directions. His skin burned too and he found himself fighting against his restraints just to itch away.

The pain was becoming too much for him to endure as he was literally being tortured and with it he could only let out a blood-curdling scream that echoed throughout the facility's halls.

Back in the cellblock area the career criminal's cries of anguish reverberated off the dull concrete walls.

"Oh no, do you think they killed him?" Linda asked limping over to the bars and trying to look down the hall in the direction it came from.

"I don't think I wanna know," Alyssa replied somberly, sitting down on her cot and looking to the floor.

In the cell directly across from where Jake Cavanaugh had been, Billy Coen lay uneasily on his cot with hands behind his head, only able to picture what kind of pain the criminal had been going through. It sounded like unspeakable torture he had been forced through, something he wouldn't even wish upon his worst enemy. For once in his life, he wished it was him being tortured and not someone else.

Author's Note: Uh-oh, our hero is being tortured! Will he be able to escape? Tune in for the next installment of Darkness Arises to find out! This is E-Z B saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	49. Chapter 43: Flames of Vengeance

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Chapter 43: Flames of Vengeance

In a flash, Jake bolted upright as he felt the painful sensation of numerous large needles pricking his flesh and cried out in anguish.

Shooting his eyes open, the sensation suddenly vanished as he looked ahead and realized he was no longer on the operating table, but in a small, unfurnished white room the size of a closet.

"Oh great…what now?" he asked aloud as he looked around feeling a chill. Looking down he suddenly realized that he had been stripped down to his black boxers and was able to take note of several red markings on his legs. Searching the rest of his body, he spotted the same kind of markings on his arms, markings of the needles used on him. While checking for any other markings, he also noticed something else.

Inspecting his left arm for any markings, he managed to raise it without any difficulty at all. "Huh? That's odd," he whispered to himself feeling no jolts of pain from a broken bone. Wiggling his hand he managed to do with no trouble and then felt along his wrist and everything appeared to be intact.

"That's weird, the last time I remember that freak Wesker broke my wrist," Jake told himself looking down to his arm and flexing his fingers to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Taking note of his miraculously healed wrist he felt his lower torso and much like his wrist, felt no pain at all. Everything down there seemed to be fully intact as well. Even looking down to his arms and legs, he noticed a lot of the places where he had received wounds during his hellacious week in Raccoon City had somehow healed themselves, leaving only faint scars behind.

"Good as new, but how?" he asked himself again and pushed himself back to his feet. "Just how long have I been in here for? My bones healing like that would take weeks…unless maybe Wesker beating me up was just some very fucked up dream. Yeah, maybe the outbreak in Raccoon, those battles with the zombies, the final fight with Birkin and the escape after, Wesker, the escape from Springvale…maybe all of this has just been one huge twisted dream!"

Jake walked up to the small door and peered out through the small window attempting to find out where he was. He pressed his head against the wall trying to peer out as far as he could, but all he could see from both sides was a dimly-lit corridor with no distinguishable features.

"If everything I've endured over the past week is all one huge dream, then where the hell am I if I'm not in the H.C.F. facility Kip was talking about?" he thought to himself pacing about the small room. "I wonder if there's even anybody out there right now, someone who can tell me what the hell is going on and where I'm at."

With no watch on his wrist he had no way of telling what time of day it was, let alone what day of the week it was. The lack of information was already making him edgy and he was fighting off the urge to punch a hole in the nearest wall.

"Damn it, somebody has to tell me something," the criminal said aloud collapsing against the nearest wall and waiting anxiously for somebody to pass his cell, regardless if they were on his side or not. Normally he would have been much cooler in a situation like this, but the blank presence outside was getting to him. It reminded him too much of Raccoon City, all the silence that came with the death and decay of that hellacious shithole. Could the experience have weakened his mental constitution?

"There's gotta be somebody here, there's got to-" Jake muttered to himself only to be cut off in mid-sentence.

A wave of pain washed over the young criminal and he clutched his chest gritting his teeth like he was about to have a heart attack. His veins were nearly popping out from beneath his skin and his breathing became labored as he convulsed in agony.

"That burning…" he grunted aloud, remembering the very burning sensation he had felt when he was strapped down to the operating table in that large laboratory. At this point he didn't know if that was a dream or not, but he certainly recalled something from that experience.

Buckling over he roared loudly in pain, feeling his stomach twist into knots, his muscles tense up and feel like they were being pulled in opposite directions, his skin feel like it was on fire and his blood like gasoline that had just been ignited. He scratched away furiously all over his body, trying in vain to extinguish an invisible sensation that felt like an endless slew of razor-sharp claws tearing away at his flesh.

"It…burns!" he groaned painfully collapsing to his knees as his legs suddenly gave out beneath him. Rolling onto his back, the pain suddenly focused its attention on his chest and he let out a choked gasp as it felt like his heart was going to explode inside of him. As quickly as it appeared in his chest, it gradually moved down throughout his limbs, soon finding himself unable to move them, feeling like they weighed a ton.

"What did that sick bastard do to me?" Jake's mind screamed to him as he lay on the floor shaking uncontrollably, his limbs burning and crying out to be scratched, but finding himself paralyzed and unable to do anything about it. As if he had been glued to the floor, he lay there with limbs spread out like he was held on a torture rack.

"Damn…you…Wesker!" he managed to choke out before finally passing out from the pain and with it, his limbs relaxed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hey, are you alright? Please, wake up! Speak to me!" a voice called out from above.

Jake groaned loudly as he shook his head, stirring back into consciousness and fighting off the lingering burning sensation within his skull. A new voice called out to him and he had to see who it was. Pressing his hands over his eyes and massaging his forehead, he waited for the sensation to subside before finally opening them.

Looking upward he saw the same white sterile ceiling above him, indicating he was still in the cell.

"Argh…damn it!" he swore bitterly until taking note of the makeshift pillow that had been placed beneath his head.

"Whoa, don't be so hasty!" that same voice called out, "You have no idea what they did to you!"

Ignoring the warning, Jake shot up to a sitting position and looked over to where another man knelt before him, offering him bottled water. The man wore the white lab coat of a researcher, indicating him as a member of the staff. He was an older man who appeared to be in his late sixties with a pock-marked bald head that had graying black hair on the sides. A pair of black wire-rimmed glasses rested on a hooked nose that covered his speckled hazel eyes, giving him the typical scientist look, with a not-so-subtle look of wisdom indicating years of experience.

To the confused criminal however, he was someone with answers.

"Please drink it, you'll need to-"

Jake cut the man off in mid-sentence, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him close hard enough he almost inadvertently head butted him.

"Alright, who the hell are you and where the hell am I? Start talking geezer!" the criminal spat, giving a hard tug to the man's tie to indicate he meant business.

"Please!" the man pleaded, "Don't hurt me! I'm here to help you! I saw what Wesker had done to you back in the lab. It was enough to make me sick and I'm only trying to help you through this mess. Please, hear me out Mr. Cavanaugh…I believe it is…please listen to me!"

"One of Wesker's boys is trying to help me out?" Jake asked edgily, "How the hell do I know this isn't some trap and that there's a bunch of his goons out there waiting to shoot me dead the second I walk through that door?"

"Please, you have to believe me! I watched what Wesker did to you and I did nothing about it. You went through something no man should ever have to go through and I for one have sat around doing nothing for long enough! You have my word that all I wish to do is do something right and help you out. This is not a trap, believe me!"

A tense silence followed as Jake's hard bluish-gray eyes pierced the weaker man's soul. "Alright, if you're not here to fuck me over, then tell me who you are and where I'm at."

The researcher took a couple deep breaths and spoke cautiously, not wanting to provoke the distrusting criminal any further. "Okay…my name is Blanton, Herbert Blanton and I'm a researcher here. Before I go on any further I want you to know that I did not take part in any of the experiments that were performed upon you. You are still at the H.C.F. facility on Verdant Mountain, you've only been moved to a private cell for the time being…until they need to inject more chemicals into your system and brainwash you."

As the researcher spoke, Jake looked down and saw an empty needle lying on the ground next to him. The rage of feeling like he had been lied to boiled in his system, but he managed to control himself, deciding he would hear the man out before smashing his skull in.

"Okay, how do you explain that needle then? You told me that you didn't participate in any of those "experiments" upon me!" he spoke sharply, causing a look of nervousness to cross the researcher's face.

"I didn't, honest!" Dr. Blanton blurted out, "You were injected with a variation of the T-Virus and some other virus I didn't even know about!"

"The T-Virus," Jake shouted.

Releasing the scientist from his grip, the criminal shot up and looked down at his hands and quickly inspected his arms and legs, making sure there were no abnormalities and no decaying flesh. "Fuck, that bastard injected me with the T-Virus!" Jake thought to himself, "Wonder how much time I have left before I turn?"

"So that bastard injected me with the T-Virus! How much time do I have left before I turn into a brain dead zombie?" Jake asked, glaring hatefully with brow furrowed.

Sweat poured down the aged scientist's face, but yet he tried to remain as calm as possible to give a clear answer. "We've been studying the T-Virus closely and have determined that you weren't injected with the lesser version that most of the other carriers have been infected with."

"A lesser version?" Jake asked suspiciously.

"The reason why the other subjects exposed to the virus have been reduced to their "living dead" status is because they were injected with a hastily produced prototype version that was missing several key components vital to several physical and neurological functions we need to survive on a day to day basis.

"From what we've determined, the original purpose of the T-Virus was to enhance a human being's physical attributes, granting them greater strength, speed, stamina and resistance to injury, as well as heightened senses and an advanced healing rate, explaining why your injuries seem to have "miraculously healed themselves." For even fewer, there is the possibility that the person may become what Umbrella has dubbed, a "Tyrant," a quintessential super soldier that I believe you may have encountered in their Raccoon City outpost, at least that's what Wesker says," Herbert explained.

"You're damn right I encountered one of those motherfuckers back in Raccoon!" Jake replied, remembering the battle between himself and the Tyrant he had fought alongside Kevin and Alyssa. It was thanks to their superior weaponry that they had quickly overcome the brute. He also recalled his battles with Nemesis, Mr. X and the mutated version of William Birkin; perhaps they too could have been classified as "Tyrants."

"Anyways," the doctor continued, "Wesker himself has been injected with a variation of the T-Virus, explaining his inhuman abilities. However, he was injected with a complete, stabilized variant, explaining why he hasn't devolved into a mindless killing machine like the ones you must've come into contact with back in Raccoon.

"You Mr. Cavanaugh were injected with the same variant, as well as another kind of virus, some kind of weird red liquid – I don't even know what the hell it's called. All I know is that you were injected with the T-Virus and another kind of virus and I injected you with an updated version of the T-Virus vaccine I believe an Umbrella researcher called "Daylight," Wesker and his men managed to snatch some samples when they were raiding the Raccoon outpost.

"I don't know what this variant is capable of and if it would do any damage in the long run, but for sure this vaccine should protect your brain and bodily functions from deteriorating and boost your immune system, protecting you from any kind of infections in the future."

Jake breathed a deep sigh of relief, elated that he wasn't going to become one of the living dead, but then his thoughts moved to the "other virus" drifting through his system. Would it be something that could help him out, or would it transform him into a horrific monstrosity?

"You sure you jack squat about that other virus you mentioned?" Jake asked looking intently down to his hands again, almost expecting a tentacle or large claws to spring out from beneath his flesh.

"You have my word that I know nothing," the doctor spoke finally rising to his feet, standing roughly nine inches shorter than the career criminal. "All I know is that Wesker is a deluded egomaniac trying to play God. He wants to create a race of super soldiers and build an army to reshape the world in his image, it's enough to sicken me and I no longer want to be a part of it.

"I believe he intended for you to become a part of that army, you truly are lucky I came to you when I did, or else he would have brainwashed you into becoming a mindless killing machine to carry out his every move. Who knows what other kinds of experiments he had in mind for you."

The thought of becoming a pawn for Wesker and his organization made the criminal sick to his stomach. Albert Wesker truly was a sick, twisted individual whose cool, composed façade hid a madman driven by dreams of wealth and power, not caring who he had to go through to get it. Jake himself was no angel, but he knew better than to follow such an impossible cause.

"I'm afraid you don't have much time left to spare. The guards should be back at any minute to take you to the labs for the next round of testing. You'd best get out of here while you still have the time," Dr. Blanton said gesturing towards the open door that stood behind him.

Jake still remained a bit leery and looked over his shoulder towards the researcher as he approached the door. It still seemed quite awkward that one of Wesker's men was giving him a free break, but yet he was overpowered by the desire to run off into his waiting freedom.

"Okay I'm going now, but what about you?" Jake asked the frail-looking researcher, "They'll notice something amiss right away. Won't they shoot you dead if they know you let me go?"

The doctor scoffed, "I'd rather have one of us made it out of this mess than none at all. I'm no longer afraid to die. Signing up with H.C.F. was a death sentence unto itself, especially working for that tyrant Wesker. I'd rather die having done at least one thing right than nothing at all."

For once the criminal found himself at a loss for words. A man he had only met just a few minutes ago was sacrificing himself for him of all people, a career criminal most people would have wanted dead in a heartbeat. It truly was a good deed the man was performing for him and made him feel better that somebody working for Wesker actually had some sense. He could only hope that the man would die a quick, painless death rather than endure torture at the hands of that genetically-enhanced madman.

"Thank you," he said quietly towards the man, "What is the quickest escape route from here?"

"There is a sub-basement you can find in Sector D not far from here. There should be a map around here somewhere, get to the sub-basement and then there is a canal that should lead to the Topaz River. It'll be a long walk, but it should take you to Ashley Moraine if you keep going north from there. I wish you much luck Mr. Cavanaugh."

"You too," he replied. Jake knew it was stupid since the man was probably going to be dead in a few minutes anyway, but he figured he might as well give him some final words of comfort before he does pass on.

Stepping into the corridor, the criminal spotted no guards, but knew they would be close by and also looked towards the corners, knowing he would have to watch out for security cameras.

"A challenge I'm up for," he thought to himself as he approached a corner. Hugging the wall he peeked his head out and saw a security camera mounted on the wall moving back and forth. Taking a deep breath he kept his body close against the wall and moved sideways until he was beneath it. It was tempting to ball his fist up and smash it right then and there, but would also attract unwanted attention. He held off on the urge until he was out of the camera's possible reach and then rounded another corner.

Another empty corridor stood before him with several doors leading to laboratories and security station with windows looking into the hall. Chances were very high the station was occupied so he quietly skulked to the nearest window before kneeling down and crawling beneath the window, keeping his ears open for any sounds within until he came to another turn.

The next turn took the criminal into a hallway filled with wooden and metal crates and a few opened cardboard boxes. It was also in this hallway he would hear footsteps coming from a distance.

"Shit," Jake quietly cursed to himself and quickly looked around for a hiding place. The footsteps continued getting closer and he grew more desperate until he looked down and saw a very unlikely solution.

All had been quiet while the guards moved through the hall, much like most of their days had been, unless of course someone tried to escape. The only major news they had received was that the notorious career criminal captured the other day had already received his first round of experimentation and Wesker wasn't done with him yet. Everybody had been warned that this criminal was a crafty fellow and they were to remain on heightened alert.

Of course with the monotonous routine many workers followed on a daily basis, it would be hard for them to follow their supervisor's word to the fullest.

"So when do you get off your shift today?" the first guard asked his counterpart.

"Around 5 o'clock, why?" the second guard asked.

"Oh, I get off at 4 today. I was gonna say because some of the guys and I are gonna hit the tavern over in Brentport after work today. You're more than welcome to join us if you want…when you get off work that is," the first spoke.

"Hmm, I don't think I have anything planned for the rest of the day after work. I think I could manage."

"Sounds cool man, guess I'll see you there," the first replied and then from there the two guards split up.

Waiting until he could no longer hear the guards' footsteps, Jake kicked off the empty cardboard box he hid underneath. Looking down to it he smirked, "It actually worked? Solid Snake eat your heart out," he thought to himself, referencing the protagonist of the popular "Metal Gear Solid" video game series.

Moving as quietly as his bare feet would allow, he continued into another corridor, where he was forced to duck into an alcove as another armed guard made his rounds. Once the man was out of sight, he resumed his run and dodged a few more security cameras before happening across a locker room. An idea entered his mind as he quietly crept inside.

The locker room itself was a like any ordinary locker room with plain black lockers and wooden benches in between the rows. Sneaking around he listened for any voices present and managed to make out a humming noise. Pressing himself gently against one of the rows he peered around a corner, where a lone man stood with his back to him changing into an H.C.F. commando outfit.

"Perfect," Jake thought to himself as he closely inspected the man's height and build, both similar to his own. If he could get his hands on the man's uniform it would fit perfectly. Now moving in at a tip-toeing pace he watched the man closely, ready to fight if he were to suddenly turn around at the last second. Raising his hand ready to strike, the nameless guard suddenly froze and took note of the movement behind him.

"What the-"

The man never had the chance to utter another word. Leaping onto him like an anaconda strangling its prey, Jake put the man in a vicious headlock and struggled for a few seconds before he finally managed to wrench the man's head to the side, producing a sickly crack.

"I'll be taking that," the criminal muttered silently as he began digging through the man's locker and quickly slipped on his full combat B.D.U., lastly slipping on the man's gasmask to complete his disguise. When he was fully dressed he then picked up the man's limp corpse and shoved it into the locker with a mighty heave. Just as he was slamming the door shut he was met by another voice from behind.

"Ah, there you are!"

Spinning around, the criminal was met by another similarly dressed commando. His fists were raised ready for a fight, not knowing if the man saw him stuffing the corpse into the locker. However, the other man threw his hands into the air like he didn't expect it.

"Whoa, easy there!" the commando spoke, "I'm on your side remember!" Calming down the man let out a chuckle, "Listen, I might be on your side, but the captain certainly isn't right now. You were supposed to be down in Sector G half an hour ago and he's pretty pissed right now, so you'd better get your guns and then get down there as soon as you can before he decides to rip your head off and use it as fish bait."

"Right," Jake hurriedly replied, wanting to speak as little as possible so he wouldn't arouse suspicion. He brushed past the other guard and made his way to the base's armory/firing range to pick up an M-4 assault rifle and a Sigpro SP2009 sidearm pistol. When he re-entered the corridor the same guard was waiting for him.

"C'mon, I don't think you can afford another black mark on your record after last week," the guard spoke.

"Uh yeah, sure," Jake quickly replied.

"Are you alright man? Is something wrong today?" the man asked.

"Shit, he must be onto me," Jake thought to himself walking at the same pace as the other guard. "No, everything's fine, why?" he replied trying to sound as normal as possible.

"You sure?" the man asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. Let's just get to our posts," Jake spoke. Whoever this guard was, he was probably onto him now and would probably have to take care of him when they reached a quiet location.

The two men traversed a few of the halls before they finally reached a hall that seemed to be free of any cameras or guards.

"Shh, did you just hear that?" Jake asked, raising his hand to halt the other guard. "I think it came from that office over there," he said pointing to a darkened office ahead of them to their left.

"What? I didn't hear anything!" the guard protested, "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Never mind that," Jake replied, "I don't know what it was, but don't you think maybe we should check it out, make sure somebody's not trying to escape."

"Eh, you're the boss," the guard replied and took a position next to the door pulling out his ID card.

Jake took a position at the opposite side and nodded towards the other guard. With a quick swipe of his card, the door beeped open and unlocked. The guard stepped into the room with rifle raised waving it back and forth.

"I don't see anything in here!" he shouted back with a hint of annoyance.

Before the man could turn around, Jake drew back his rifle and slammed the butt into the back of the man's neck, hard enough to snap it upon impact. Without a word, the criminal swiped the dead man's ID card and remaining ammunition before hiding his body under a desk and then locked the door behind him.

"Gotta find Sector D, but first I gotta find my way back to the cellblock so I can free the others," Jake thought to himself as he strolled down the hall trying to blend in with everybody else. It would be a challenge trying to sneak six additional people out of this large facility, but it was one he was willing to take even if he had to shoot his way out. All the bullets and explosions would cause even greater danger for them, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"And this is one desperate situation," the criminal thought as he passed an employee lounge where scientists and unmasked guards mingled about eating their lunches, watching TV, playing arcade games or reading the daily paper. Luckily they didn't notice him and he moved about past another guard who nodded quietly to him.

Around another corner several maintenance workers were hard at work repairing a few wall-mounted control panels, while at the same time trading barbs with impatient researchers. It was in this hall he noticed a map down at the opposite end of the corridor. Moving quietly past the researchers he continued down the corridor until he reached the map and made sure nobody was looking before snatching it up and stepping out of sight.

"Alright, cellblock, cellblock where are you?" he asked quietly moving his finger along the paper to trace his route. His train of thought was interrupted by a burst of automatic fire from not too far away.

Jake cursed quietly to himself shifting his gaze back down to the map and figuring out where that burst came from. Tracing his finger along the paths he almost jumped as he realized where it came from.

"The cell area…Dr. Blanton," he muttered to himself and shoved the map into a pocket. Perhaps the guards had finally found out the good doctor had set him free and had just dealt with him. It was worth checking out nonetheless.

Rushing down the halls as quickly as he could move he finally happened across the hall where he had previously been held, skidding to a halt. Four guards stood congregated around the shot up corpse he easily identified as that of Dr. Blanton.

"I'm positive this bastard let Cavanaugh loose! He just has to have!" one of the guards spoke, motioning towards the cell that once held Jake.

"You'd better be right or else Wesker's going to have all our heads for killing one of the science team!" another added.

"Hey, maybe that guy down there knows something!" another called out pointing towards Jake, "Hey you hold up! Have you seen that Cavanaugh bastard anywhere?"

Jake shook his head, not wanting to give himself away in case they knew what he sounded like.

"Shit! He's around here somewhere!" the second guard spoke and tapped on an earpiece attached to his mask.

The career criminal's mind raced as he saw the man tapping his earpiece, ready to report him missing and have the entire base sent under lockdown. He did the only thing he could do and raised his rifle.

Unable to react in time, the four guards were quickly cut down in a hail of lead that ripped through their gasmasks, splattering brain matter all over the walls. Each man hit the floor with a wet thud and their weapons splashed in the wet pools of blood beneath, splattering the blood even further.

Ejecting the spent clip, Jake looked at them without remorse and only focused on the man they had killed.

The man who had sacrificed his own life to save his life, lying on the ground with his arms outstretched in the same fashion Christ's were as he was nailed to the Cross.

Herbert Blanton lay on the ground riddled with bullets, his entire lab coat turned crimson by the blood from his wounds. His eyes were wide open beneath his cracked glasses and mouth left agape in a silent scream. It had not been a quick death for the good doctor, but he felt the satisfaction that justice had been done towards the man's killers.

"Thank you for everything Doctor," Jake said kneeling down and closing the man's eyes and mouth, a ritual he had performed repeatedly during his time in Raccoon City, one that had become a routine as he was always the survivor while someone else died around him. "I might not have been able to save you, but I will make the bastards pay for putting you through this mess. It's the least I can do for what you did for me and I'll do whatever the hell I can to get the others out. Rest in peace, Doc."

Normally he probably would have paid no heed to a mysterious man like Dr. Blanton, but the man had gone out of his way to save him and he genuinely felt like he owed the man a favor. He would do whatever he could to avenge and innocent soul who had fallen before a tyrant.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The trek back to the cellblock area was longer than Jake thought as he walked slowly to avoid raising suspicion. He passed more guards on his way there, replying with quiet nods, as he continued about.

"Shouldn't be too far away," he thought to himself, thinking if any of his cellmates would still be alive or not. He still had no idea how long he had been out for and it was still a question that tore away at him. Had he been knocked out for days, had they taken the others away? The numerous questions eating away at his psyche were almost making him lose his composure and he was getting to the point of having to fight off an exasperated, nervous twitch.

"Can't recall the last time I've given this much of a shit about a bunch of civvies. Normally they'd want to call the cops and have me thrown in the nearest jail, but this breed is different," he thought to himself, knowing he was dealing with people who were caught in the same boat as him and would be at least halfway sympathetic to his plight.

Just as the criminal was about to round another corner, an ear-splitting alarm echoed throughout the spacey corridors and red klaxon lights transformed the sterile white into a neon shade of red.

"Looks like they found the leftovers of my handiwork," Jake thought with a half-smirk beneath his mask. He stood quietly as a wall of guards rushed past him with weapons raised and radio chatter nearly overtaking the wail of the alarm.

A gloved hand gripped his shoulder and he turned to see another identically dressed guard with his rifle raised. "What are you doing? Don't just stand around man! Cavanaugh is on the loose and killed four of our boys already! We've gotta get this place secured so he doesn't escape!"

Jake nodded silently and looked around to make sure no other guards were in sight before delivering a hard spinning heel kick to the man's face. The force sent the guard flying into the air and he hit the ground with a hard thud. With no time to make sure if the man was just unconscious or really dead, the criminal grabbed the man by the legs and dragged his prone form into a nearby alcove, propping him into a standing position before relieving him of all his ammunition.

"All units be on full alert," a voice crackled from the radio attached to his uniform, "Jake Cavanaugh is on the loose! Repeat, Jake Cavanaugh is on the loose! All facility grounds are to be placed under lockdown until the matter is resolved. Once again, the base is now under lockdown! This guy is one ice cold killer so be ready for anything! Keep a close lookout on the ventilation ducts and underground passageways; you never know what he'll be capable of."

"Damn right I am," Jake thought at the "ice cold killer" remark, he was to be their executioner.

He continued down the hall and was approached by four additional guards with their weapons drawn.

"C'mon man, Cavanaugh's gotta be around here somewhere!" one of the guards shouted to him.

"When we find him, I want first crack at that son of a bitch…he murdered two of my closest buddies," a guard behind him spoke.

"Oh he will pay, believe me he will pay," a third guard spoke up.

"Have you seen anything suspicious?" the fourth guard asked Jake.

"Nope," he simply replied and tried to hide his tension as the guards stood around him. The rifle was held tight in his hands and once again he had to stand ready to open fire.

"Well come with us, we've gotta find that fucker before he gets out to the woods!" the first guard spoke again.

"Don't you think maybe we should split up?" Jake asked, hoping to distance himself long enough to formulate a plan for rescuing his cellmates and not needing any unnecessary distractions in the way.

The four guards looked to one another uneasily and then returned their attention to Jake. "Alright, fine we'll split up," spoke the lead guard, "You two go with him," he ordered pointing to the two nearest to the criminal, "And you come along with me!" he ordered turning to the guard closest to him. "Now let's move out!"

Nodding to the other two guards with him, Jake began rushing in the direction of the cellblock area.

"So where exactly in the hell are we going?" one of the guards asked.

"The cellblock area, who knows if he's decided to spring his fellow cellmates or not," Jake replied, knowing the two men probably wouldn't be alive long enough to relay the information to their fellow guards.

"Right now I don't give a shit what Wesker says," the other guard spoke, "After the crap that Cavanaugh bastard has pulled, I'm more than happy to kill 'em all."

"That's right, keep following me you morons," Jake thought to himself, hoping to draw them into an area where he could silently kill both of them.

Luring them around a corner about to make his next move, the career criminal was about to act when a crippling sensation he hoped he would never have to feel again suddenly returned.

A tremor traveled through his legs, slowing him down as they started to feel very rubbery, followed by the familiar pain. "Damn it, not again!" he painfully groaned aloud.

"What?" one of the guards asked. Both of them turned around to see their disguised adversary suddenly arch his back and arms stretch out like they were being pulled by unseen hands.

The burning sensation caused the young man to scream in pain and once again he felt like he was struck in the chest by a cannonball. "That…burning…" he choked out as he fell to his knees and felt the sensation travel down his arms, causing unbearable agony. He could only flail his arms wildly as he sought something to extinguish the invisible flames, which now moved throughout his lower body. "Damn it…" he grunted again as he struggled to avoid collapsing onto the floor.

"Hey man, are you alright?" the guard on the left asked.

"Do you think he's having a heart attack?" his partner asked.

Without a word the left hand guard reached towards him, only to bend backwards to avoid a swinging fist.

"Don't…touch…me!" Jake screamed in between convulsions, "Just…get…away…leave me alone!" he roared buckling forward and striking his helmeted head against the floor.

"What's going on?" another voice called out and more footsteps followed from behind.

"He must be having a heart attack! Quick get a medic down here!" the second guard called out as him and his partner helped Jake up and leaned him against the wall in a sitting position.

"Relax man, you're going to be alright!" a new guard spoke kneeling down and pinning his left arm against the wall.

"No! Get away…from me!" Jake again screamed now trying to kick his legs up, both of which were quickly pinned down by guards on opposite sides.

"Dude relax, we're trying to help you!" another shouted, unaware that he was providing assistance to the very man he was supposed to be hunting down.

"They're going to find out who I am!" his mind screamed to him, an amazing feat considering the mind-numbing pain he was experiencing.

"Quick, get his mask off!" another shouted.

"No!!!" the criminal screamed. The very moment he feared was about to occur now as a pair of hands reached towards him. They were going to find out who he was and this accursed pain surely would stop him from being able to defend himself. "No, get away! Don't!!!"

The guards ignored the criminal's pleas and quickly ripped the gasmask from his head. A dead silence followed, blocking out the blaring alarm.

"Well look what we got here!" an unseen voice called out.

"It's the murdering bastard himself!" another spoke followed by a steel-toed boot being driven into his side. With the pain traveling throughout his body, all the armor in the world couldn't have protected him from that blow.

"Stand him up!" another ordered and Jake winced as pairs of hands were placed under his arms and lifted him into a standing position. What followed were a few hard fists to his face, followed further by a knee to the gut and then a head butt.

"You murdering bastard! You goddamned piece of shit!" one of the many voices rang out and Jake was knocked against the wall by a powerful backhand that snapped his head back harder into the wall.

By now the burning sensation had faded from his body, only to be replaced by the pain of numerous fists and feet connecting all over his body as he lay sprawled on the ground, the guards above him practically knocking each other out of the way as they fought for the opportunity to drive their boot into anywhere on his body they could. Any shreds of self-control had left their systems as they tore into the hapless career criminal like a pack of wild dogs tearing away at a carcass, driven by sheer bloodlust as they fought to avenge the friends who had died by his hand.

Screamed curses filled Jake's ears as the vengeful guards pummeled him relentlessly and in the background their colleagues cheered them on with chants of "Kill that fucker!" and "Break every bone in his goddamned body!"

Out of the fists and feet pounding away at his form, the butt of an assault rifle found its mark in the back of his head, splitting his scalp wide open and sending blood cascading down his forehead and face. The pain thundering throughout his skull barely made him register being picked up and carried through the halls atop a horde of raging guards, who playfully passed him around like he was body surfing in a mosh pit.

"You killed a lot of our buddies you son of a bitch and now we're gonna have some fun with you before we kill you!" a bitter guard spat as he was carried down the hall. The mass of guards moved their victim down a long corridor and before he knew it, he found himself being thrown onto cold, unforgiving concrete.

Pain shooting through his body, all Jake could do now was roll his head off to the side to spit out a large gob of blood and gag heavily as he struggled to breathe. A large boot flipped the criminal over onto his stomach and he was left lying facedown in a now dried puddle of blood. Attempting another labored breath, he was lifted to his feet again before it could escape and a gloved hand was placed under his chin, lifting his head up so he could face the angry mob of guards that stood before him.

A guard towards the front of the mob approached Jake and slapped him hard across the face, sending a sheet of blood spraying onto the uniform of the guard holding him from the right.

"Jake Cavanaugh, the notorious Red Dragon, one of the most wanted and feared criminals in the country!" the guard smugly spoke before drawing his foot back and kicking him hard in the gut, causing him to cough blood onto his boot which only seemed to anger the man even further. "And here you are now, an impotent, broken down sack of shit!" the man spoke before giving him an uppercut that snapped his head back. The guards holding him let him go and allowed him to fall backwards to the concrete.

"Look at you now, you're weak and worthless!" the same guard shouted and then lifted his gasmask so he could spit in the criminal's bloodied face.

Despite the physical pain that had overtaken his body, Jake would not allow his mind to be broken and he would still continue whatever he could to antagonize his captors.

"Heh heh…you talk really tough…when you wait until I'm weak…and still…have to be…surrounded…by all your…piss ant friends…just to challenge me," the criminal painfully chuckled staring into the lights above, "You're all perfect for Wesker…a bunch of snakes…who couldn't take me…even on my worst day…you're all…fucking amateurs! You'd…all be dead now…if I was…able to stand…heh!"

"Let me take this bastard!" a youthful voice called out.

Stepping into Jake's field of vision, another guard came up and removed his gasmask, revealing himself to be a young African-American man who looked like he was barely even out of high school.

"You remember me sucka'?" the kid shouted in a thick Ebonics accent, "Los Santos six years back! You killed my older brotha' you bitch!" the man shouted and mounted him, his fists becoming an ebony blur as he began pounding away at the criminal's already hurting face. "Now, I'm gonna kill you!"

The kid stood up only to fall back down as he drove his elbow into Jake's gut and forced him to gag loudly. "That's right, I'm gonna make you scream like a bitch! Ain't I?" he hollered back to the other bloodthirsty guards, who cheered the kid on wanting to see him maim their fallen adversary.

As if things couldn't get any worse for Jake Cavanaugh, the burning pain returned and he regained his strength long enough to try scratching away at his gloved hands.

"Not…again…" he weakly grunted trying to claw away at the skin beneath his gloves and with some regained strength managed to pull the gloves off his hands and began scratching away furiously. "The…burning!" he grunted.

"Oh look, he's going on again about "the burning!" a guard taunted, "Why don't you get over there Juvaun and finish his punk ass off, then we can make Christmas decorations out of his body parts!"

The young guard named Juvaun walked over to the fallen criminal and pulled a large combat knife from a knife holster wrapped around his shoulder.

"All gonna end now Cavanaugh!"

Just as the youthful guard raised the knife above his head, his eyes suddenly widened at a bright flash of reddish-orange light. It was the last thing he would ever see.

A second later the young guard was down on the ground enveloped in flames, rolling around in a pitiful attempt to extinguish them as he called out for help from his colleagues. Within seconds the guard named Juvaun was consumed by the flames and his body collapsed, soon to be reduced to a pile of smoking ashes.

A horrified death-like silence fell over the once raging mass of guards and they all stood now silently stunned by what they had just witnessed.

"What the hell? Did he just set him on fire with his own bare hands?" a guard asked from the silent mass.

No reply came as the guards stared in bewilderment at the crackling ball of flame that now surrounded the career criminal's outstretched right hand.

"You're right, he did," another guard answered, "What the hell is wrong with him?"

Even Jake himself was amazed by what he had just done. He had literally set a man on fire with his own bare hand, a flame that had mysteriously manifested itself from out of nowhere, a feat he had only seen performed in movies and one-on-one fighting video games. He didn't know if he was supposed to feel impressed or horrified by what he had just done.

"That flame just came out of my hand, but how?" he asked himself until he remembered. "That sick bastard Wesker must've done this to me!" he thought as the flame continued to burn in front of him. It surrounded his hand and illuminated the already dimly-lit room, but strangely he felt no pain at all. He felt great warmth, one that seemed to soothe his pain and empower him at the same time.

"I don't know what's wrong with that kid, but I'm going to kill that bastard right now!" another guard spoke and reached for his rifle.

Using renewed strength, Jake looked up towards the guard taking aim at him and narrowed his focus on the man. The flame surrounding his hand grew and he shot a perfectly timed fireball at the guard, melting his assault rifle and engulfing the man's entire body in flames.

These flames, wherever they came from, one thing they were doing for certain was renewing his strength. Channeling the burning sensation into his hands, he watched as the flames grew and burnt away at the cuffs of his sleeves and moved further up his arm until they stopped just below his elbows.

"Yes, it's working," Jake thought to himself as he could suddenly feel the cuts inflicted upon him by the guards miraculously healing at a rapid pace. The pain in his joints and internal organs suddenly began to diminish as well. With the strength returning in his muscles he kipped back up to a standing position and faced his attackers.

All of the guards remained silent in a mixture of awe and horror as they stood before the very man they had beaten to the brink of near death just moments before. Now he stood tall with his hands surrounded by mystical flames and his brow furrowed in rage, giving off a threatening vampire-like gaze that said he was ready to kill them all.

"Kill him!" another guard shouted and taking a cue, the other guards snapped out of their collective trance and began reaching for their weapons.

"Time to see what the hell I can do," Jake thought to himself bracing a foot behind him, "I'll have to "thank" Wesker for this later."

Taking aim at the nearest guard, the career criminal shot a stream of fire at the man that engulfed the four other men surrounding him. He watched in quiet satisfaction as the flames quickly swallowed the armored men and their charred corpses collapsed to the concrete, much like he had witnessed on the night of the Raccoon Outbreak when he had tossed that lighter into the gasoline spill to torch a wave of approaching zombies.

Another trio of guards approached Jake and began firing their rifles in unison at him, only to have their bullets melted in thin air as the criminal created a wall of fire in front of him as a defensive shield. Channeling his energy, he crafted a big fireball and launched it towards the gunmen, setting them ablaze and leaving them to run around wildly catching fellow guards in the blaze.

"It's almost like I've always had these powers," Jake thought to himself, remarking on how easy they were to use after having them for such a short period of time. "Whatever this 'other virus' is, it must be what is causing these flames and must have some kind of psychological aspect that enables me to control them right away," he thought, recalling science fiction novels he had read where a person would have awesome powers bestowed upon them, eventually ending up either destroyed by them because of their inability to control them, or learning how to control them and become very powerful.

"Whatever Wesker did to me, he must have turned me into a mutant freak just like he is; right now however, these powers are working in my favor and I'd better make use of them to the fullest extent if I wanna survive this shithole."

Launching another fireball towards a shooting guard, the man was reduced to a pile of blackened bones seconds later. Another guard managed to get up close to Jake while he was distracted and attempted to whip him with the butt of his rifle, only to receive a flaming back fist followed by more flaming fist attacks before being knocked out cold.

Black smoke clouded the room making it difficult to see and the stench of burnt flesh became almost too unbearable even for the hardened career criminal. He quickly rolled over a barrage of bullets fired in his direction and placed a burning hand to the man's chest, eating through his armor and searing the man's flesh. Ducking an attempted swipe from another guard, flames surrounded Jake's hand and he grabbed the man by the face, his flames eating through the mask's material and scorching the man's face beneath until he struggled no more.

Having killed enough guards already Jake now focused on escaping and made a charge for the nearest door he saw, punching and kicking anybody who stood in his way, using his newly-acquired flames for the former, which seemed to heighten his punching power. Two more guards stood between him and the door with guns pointed at him. Outstretching his burning hands, he grabbed both men simultaneously and set them both ablaze.

"Amateurs," he taunted as he stood before the door and began charging up his powers. Knowing these men had received professional training, he knew they would have the door surrounded on the outside and would have some pretty itchy trigger fingers. The flames around his hands grew larger with every passing second, ready to give them a surprise they would never forget.

Surely enough, a large cadre of trained assassins had gathered around the door leading into the dungeon area where Jake Cavanaugh had been dragged to and had all weapons trained on the sliding electronic door. They could hear the screams of their comrades being burned alive and weren't taking any chances. There were twenty guards gathered altogether and they were hoping they would be more than enough for one man with a violent reputation, a man they had never encountered personally.

They were about to be proven wrong.

Receiving a ready nod from all of the commandos present, the unit's leader swiped his keycard through the slot and was met with an electronic ding followed by the whoosh of hydraulics. The whoosh was followed by another, this one of a wall of fire that immediately incinerated the unwitting squad leader and a majority of his men.

Jake stepped into the hallway careful to avoid the still burning bodies of his most recent attack. He listened to the pained cries of the nearby survivors writhing on the ground in agony, completely desensitized to their pain after what they had done to him. Among the charred corpses he found a SOCOM pistol and decided to take it along as a backup tool when he wouldn't be able to use his newly endowed powers.

Through the smoke above him he spotted a security camera and smirked knowing that Wesker was probably watching him from some faraway control room. A broad grin crossed his features and he flashed a middle finger to the lens, sending a taunting reminder that he wouldn't allow the madman to bring him down.

In the distance he could hear more footsteps and shouts of approaching commandos zoning in on his location, on a futile mission to snuff him out.

Jake looked to his now bare hand and made the flames manifest around his hand. Were they a gift or a curse? Right now he didn't know what to think, but one thing he did have in mind was exacting a little revenge before he made his escape.

They would feel his flames of vengeance.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Albert Wesker watched impassively from the facility's main control center as Jake Cavanaugh flipped him the bird and then made his way down the hall to massacre more of his men.

Alongside him Gabriel Karkian seethed and clenched his fists in anger at the sight of more of his men being slaughtered by the notorious career criminal. Frustrated beyond belief he turned his attention to his superior.

"You goddamned bastard," he roared and turned the man to face him, "Once again you've lied to me! You told me you had everything under control, but now he's running free thanks to that Blanton bastard! I knew I should've known better than to listen to you, we should've killed him back in Maple when we had him at our mercy! But no! You had to keep him alive for the sake of some fucking super soldier experiment trying to make him into one of your 'own kind!' Once again you've fucked things up royally!"

The H.C.F. supervisor stood silently absorbing the verbal lashing he was receiving from the incensed squad commander. Detached and unafraid he almost wanted to laugh at the man's emotional outburst.

"Yes Wesker, this is all your fault!" Commander Karkian roared as he angrily drove his fist into his superior's nose and knocked the shades from his face.

An audible crack resounded through the control room and all the techs and guards present stood in silent horror as their feared superior's head snapped to the side. Even Karkian himself would stare silently, shocking himself at what he had just done.

Albert Wesker still remained silent, letting out no yelps of pain as he absorbed the blow. Shrugging the attack off he looked back to his subordinate with his reptilian eyes and smirked. In a fluid motion he reached up and snapped his dislodged nose back into place.

"You always were a headstrong one Gabriel," the supervisor remarked in his cool tone, "It's one of the many human flaws that will forever hold you back from becoming something like me." In the blink of an eye, Commander Karkian was sent flying across the room by a powerful backhanded shot.

Everybody else let out yelps of terror as the commander was sent crashing into a shelf full of scientific equipment and landed hard on his side, somehow still conscious after what had just occurred. Acting on instinct several of the guards raised their weapons and pointed them at the mutant supervisor, truly unsure of what to do next. The icy, inhuman glare that followed was enough to convince them to once again lower their weapons.

By now everybody was scared half to death and didn't dare help Commander Karkian up as he struggled back to his feet, bracing himself on a nearby console before standing under his own free will. Looking around to the worried faces surrounding him, the veteran commander nodded quietly understanding the repercussions that would have followed.

"You dare to defy me Gabriel," Wesker spoke and then harrumphed, "Somehow I'm not surprised," he stated with a mocking simper.

"Shut the fuck up you overbearing son of a bitch!" Karkian hollered, "I've taken your crap for long enough and I've had it! For far too long I have sat back and done nothing while you have allowed your own to be mercilessly led to the slaughter thinking them to be 'expendable assets.' Well no more! I'm through with sitting off to the sidelines and being your pawn and I'm sure a lot of these people are too."

The guards and techs present still remained silent, but now a few of them began to slowly nod in defiance of their uncaring supervisor and took steps towards the commander standing up for them.

"Say whatever you want, but you're on your own now!" Karkian declared, "Go ahead and tell the company. They can fire me if they want, but I have more important matters to think about right now."

He then looked to the other employees surrounding him, "For anybody that's with me, come on we're getting out of here."

Everybody else looked around uneasily as they now had a major decision to make, either stay with the tyrannical Wesker or escape with Commander Karkian, a man who could be brutal in his own right when the situation called for it, but a far more honorable, stable individual.

Nodding to each other, two guards immediately took their place alongside the commander followed by five more. Standing up from her workstation was a woman who Wesker only knew by her last name, Lemke. Two more techs, Bronwyn and Abbott joined the commander and with them was a maintenance technician named Chaucer.

"Is that everybody?" Karkian called out, "This is the last call, make your decision now or forever hold your peace."

Taking advantage of the situation, two more guards and another tech joined up with Commander Karkian and his ragtag group.

Satisfied that he was able to get some people on his side for once Karkian looked back to his now former supervisor with a sullen expression and said nothing as he exited the room followed by his entourage.

Wesker stood quietly unaffected by the sudden defection. Karkian's sudden outburst did nothing to change the view he held of his subordinates as expendable assets. They were all mortal weaklings whom he could perform easily without if the situation called for it. Besides, they got in the way most of the time anyway.

Turning around he was met by the worried stares of the employees who had chosen to stay behind fearful of the ramifications that could possibly follow Karkian's decision. He knew they were scared of him and it was a feeling he was deeply pleased with.

"What are you looking at? Get back to your posts immediately!" he barked.

The remaining employees jumped in unison and quickly scrambled back to their assigned posts. Wesker himself returned his attention to the security monitors and began typing in a series of commands to find Cavanaugh's current location, finding him in another corridor incinerating a trio of approaching guards with one hand and pulling out a SOCOM to put another guard down.

"Have all the fun you want Cavanaugh. I can take you down all by myself with or without any backup," he thought confidently to himself. Only now did he realize that perhaps his attempts to convert the career criminal into his own personal super-powered minion were all in vain. Now he was through playing games and would kill the man himself if his men couldn't do it.

Sighting his nemesis near one of the many security stations located around the base, the H.C.F. supervisor tapped his finger to his earpiece and was about to say something when a loud explosion rang out and he suddenly found himself thrown backwards against another control console.

Another explosion sounded and this time the whole room was nearly rocked from its entire foundation. Three more massive explosions followed in succession and the entire room slowly started to crumble around him. A series of small explosions erupted in the control center as numerous consoles were destroyed by falling debris and knocked from their positions. Sparks flew from destroyed monitors and ignited stacks of paper lying on the desks, creating small fires that prompted the overhead sprinkler compartments to kick in and shower everybody present. Red emergency auxiliary lights flickered on and off, a few bursting as they activated, bathing sections of the room in the same neon red glow of the corridors. Cries of anguish filled the air from a few of the occupants along with those calling out for survivors.

Wesker lay on the ground pinned by a large pipe that had fallen from the ceiling and had a few jagged shards of metal embedded in his skin as well as having been struck by a few falling rocks as he lay pinned to the floor. Thanks to the virus running through his system he barely felt any pain and any wounds he did sustain were already sealing themselves up and one by one the metal shards popped out of his body. With a mighty heave he pushed the pipe off of him and kipped back up to his feet.

A few unscathed employees scuttled about tending to their injured colleagues, most of who had been crushed by falling debris or burnt by the explosions. The whoosh of fire extinguishers sounded as a few more attempted to douse the small fires. Right away a lone tech named Server approached a still functioning control panel and began typing a few commands in to see if any of the security cameras were still working.

"Server, status report," the supervisor called out walking over to the man, who worked more hurriedly once he saw him approaching.

"Uh…it looks like somebody must've set some charges from underneath us…" he explained with his fingers flying across the keyboard. "Whoever they are, they knocked out most of our cameras too," he said searching for any live feeds, but mostly getting static.

"I think I have an idea of who did," Wesker spoke and pushed the tech out of the way. Taking a seat at the console his fingers flew across the keyboard and searched through the numerous feeds until he finally happened across a functioning camera.

The view was taken to a side corridor where several injured guards were recovering from the numerous blasts and sifting their way through the debris, only to be cut down by gunfire from unseen assailants. A platoon of heavily armed men stepped into sight; dressed similarly to his own men, except their uniforms were a very dark shade of green. Only he knew who they belonged to right away.

"So they've come back to reclaim what they think is theirs," he muttered to himself and then tapped his earpiece to reach a lead researcher in one of the facility's main laboratories. "Secure the T and G Virus samples. Apparently Umbrella can't bear to part with their 'precious cargo,' well we're going to show them."

"Yes sir," one of the many researchers replied.

Staring more closely at the invading troopers he was able to make out the movements of the squad's leader, movements of someone he had seen in action before, a man he knew all too well.

"Looks like they've sent in the legendary 'Mr. Death' himself," Wesker remarked and began typing in a few more commands on the keyboard, "With him and Mr. Cavanaugh running around, looks like I might have to level the playing field."

Hitting the ENTER key an electronic female voice rang out.

"The self-destruct sequence has been initiated. This sequence cannot be aborted. This facility will self-destruct in thirty minutes."

"Have fun boys."

Author's Note: Here you have it folks, the latest installment of "Darkness Arises!" I admit that giving Jake the ability to wield flames might sound a little too unreal even for a Resident Evil story, but it's largely inspired by his ability to wield flames in my other story featuring him under the Street Fighter forum called "The Chosen Ones." In that fic however, he has the ability to wield his flames through harnessing his bodily chi, something that probably wouldn't fit in too well in an RE story where the characters can't just throw fireballs whenever they please, hence why I gave him these powers through science.

Then again, Resident Evil stories have had their almost more supernatural characters, like the mutated Alexia Ashford and her ability to wield flames in Code: Veronica and then you get Wesker himself coming back from the dead with superhuman abilities and what not. This will receive a mixed response, but even you get the unreal stuff in the movies with Alice being a super soldier too.

Well that's my rant now so read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME!


	50. Chapter 44: Breakout

Darkness Arises

By E-Z B

Chapter 44: Breakout

He had pushed a simple red button and a small beep sounded out. What followed was a string of colossal explosions that would rock the foundation of the building above and rained down large debris upon him and his men.

Bracing himself against a grimy wall to absorb the shock of the blasts, he could only be thankful his ballistic helmet came equipped with sensors that would protect his hearing, or else he would have gone deaf from the blasts. His men around him scrambled for cover to protect themselves from the falling debris, but yet he remained out in the open unafraid of the falling concrete which could have easily injured him.

Having survived the horrors of one accursed city had strongly desensitized him to the horrors man was capable of creating. At the same time though, it had also taught him firsthand that there truly are fates worse than death.

The area continued to rock for several seconds following the string of blasts and it was only when the monstrous echoes ceased that his men dared peek their heads back into the open.

"Think that knocked out their power?" asked a heavily accented German voice.

"Should have," replied an American accented voice "Should have done more than that. It should have leveled most of their base and killed most of their boys. Should be a walk in the park from here."

"They better not get too overconfident," he thought to himself, much like his unit members had back in Raccoon City and look at what happened to them, they were all skewered to death by a manmade monstrosity, created by a sick, twisted individual employed by the same company he worked for. He would save those memories for later; right now he had a mission to accomplish.

"Keep it moving, clear as you go," he ordered, his tone made cold and robotic by the gasmask he wore.

Without hesitation, the six men with him began moving forth absolutely obedient to his order. To those men, they were within the presence of a legend within the ranks of the U.S.F., one who commanded the utmost respect and didn't tolerate failure of any kind.

To the civilian world, the man was simply known under the unassuming name of James Dalton Cooper, but to the Umbrella higher ups he was codenamed Agent Hunk, and to the men who served alongside him in the field he was known right away as "Mr. Death."

Yes, it was THE Mr. Death himself leading the charge and those who knew served with him right away knew he would be living up to his name.

The veteran operative, despite being a tenacious and resilient fighter who had scored countless kills throughout the course of his lengthy career, wasn't so much known by the "Mr. Death" moniker for his deadly fighting ability, but rather from the odd coincidence of how he was oftentimes the sole survivor of savage, brutal missions gone terribly wrong.

Tales floated throughout the barracks of his legendary exploits, often told by the extraction pilots who were always there to pick him up. He would be sent into hot zones all over the world carrying out whatever orders he was given when beckoned upon, usually sent in with a squad of between ten and twenty men. When the smoke cleared, usually it was only him who returned. Anybody else who was fortunate enough to return with him on one occasion would usually die in a subsequent mission.

Most of the stories told about him had taken near mythic proportions and to a point he became somewhat of a boogeyman to fresh faced recruits, who were warned "Whatever you do, don't wind up with Mr. Death, chances are very high you'll end up coming home in a body bag."

Hunk often shrugged off such notions and moved on from mission to mission, only caring about the next paycheck he would receive. To him, death was a natural part of the life cycle. For most of his adult life he had been a soldier in one form or another and had seen his fair share of battles. He had come to accept the fact that dying was a natural part of warfare and chose to distance himself from his men, knowing it would probably be the first and last time he would see them, not wanting to get attached to the point where he would grieve over their loss. He was a real-life Grim Reaper and desensitized to much of the violence around him.

Not even the horrors that had converted Raccoon City into a virtual necropolis had been enough to change his views on the subject.

With the rest of his men he continued to trudge through the murky water and the once well-lit halls, which had now been severely darkened aside from a few flickering lights above, a surefire sign they had damaged some power generators in the process. Thankfully each man came equipped with thermal imaging goggles so they wouldn't lose a single step.

Berry, the unit's heavy machine gunner, led the way pointing an M-60E3 heavy machine gun down the darkened tunnel with finger on the trigger. He was followed closely by the unit's tactical shooters Schenker and Santiago, both men carrying M4A1 assault rifles. The former also served as the unit's primary sniper and had a Russian-made Dragunov SVD strapped to his back.

Hunk himself carried an A3 variant of the popular Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine gun, moving right behind the three leaders. Moving in virtual lockstep formation next to him was Weir, the unit's electronics specialist. Behind him were O'Doole, the demolitions specialist, and the unit's medic Davy, all three men carrying to exact weapon as him.

The unit being led by Hunk was one of the many that belonged to the Umbrella Special Forces and it was a squadron consisting of seven battle-hardened men who had each seen his fair share of combat around the world. To be a part of this private army you had to be good, an extensive mercenary, law enforcement or military background was a must. Nearly all of the men currently in the U.S.F. and its counterpart the U.B.C.S., had at one point been a part of one of the major special operations teams from around the world.

Hunk himself was a former U.S. Marine who had seen action in the Middle East during the Persian Gulf War and had been there in the disastrous Black Hawk Down mission in Mogadishu back in '93. He had also partaken in several "police actions" in Africa and Eastern Europe, and had seen his fair share of skirmishes in Latin America.

Agent Berry was a former U.S. Army Ranger in the Gulf War who had later moved on to become part of the F.B.I.'s Hostage Rescue Team. Santiago had been one of his squad mates in the Rangers who had later gone on to join the L.A.P.D.'s S.W.A.T. team and served as one of its best marksmen before becoming an element leader. Schenker was once a member of Germany's GSG-9 Mountaineer Border Patrol Agency, Weir had been with Israel's Mossad and later Force 101 and Davy at one point had belonged to Great Britain's famed Special Air Service. O'Doole was the only member who had no formal military experience, serving as a member of the Irish Republican Army and later as a mercenary with the Basque separatist movement in Spain, learning everything he had about demolitions from both units.

At the moment, Hunk and his men were on a mission to retrieve the T and G virus samples taken from Raccoon, as well as samples of the Daylight vaccine that had been developed for the former, and anything else reported stolen.

Before the Raccoon City outpost had been destroyed, the techs back at the main Umbrella headquarters had managed to save the security footage, which displayed armed gunmen raiding the labs and stealing whatever they could, be it optical discs, files or virus samples. It didn't take Cortlandt long to figure out that it was their top rival H.C.F. behind the robbery, thus explaining their current presence.

"Contact!" Berry shouted before squeezing down on his trigger, the thunderous crack of his machine gun echoing throughout the dark tunnels. One final dying moan was heard before he stepped forth.

Hunk quickly moved past his tactical shooters to find that they had happened across four H.C.F. commandos whom they had managed to catch off guard, perhaps sent down to investigate the source of the explosions.

The squad leader looked back to his men and nodded, "Keep your eyes peeled for additional hostile activity. They'll probably be sending more of their boy scouts down at any moment."

Nodding silently the men continued their movement with weapons raised.

Their resumed journey would continue for several additional minutes before they happened upon a T-intersection and a gunshot rang out, the bullet ricocheting off the wall and nearly striking Santiago, forcing him to duck down.

Schenker was there to aide his fellow shooter and quickly fired a barrage into the darkness, the flashes illuminating the darkness long enough to see a figure fall forward into the ankle-high water. Nodding back to his men, the German ran forth and overturned the body with his boot to see he had just gunned down a man in a white lab coat.

"One of their tube jockeys," the German muttered and then knelt down to inspect the dead scientist's gun, a Beretta M92FS, before looting his remaining ammunition.

"Stay alert!" Hunk ordered and nodded for Berry to walk alongside him while the others followed closely behind.

The veteran operative knew who was responsible for these men and how he operated. Despite his "reputation," Mr. Death still would go out of his way to look out for his men the best he could, until a majority of them would meet their eventual demise.

Clattering steel sounded ahead and Hunk raised a hand, motioning for Berry to halt. Wanting to move faster, he motioned for Santiago and Schenker to follow him now and they jogged around a corner to find another researcher trying frantically to help a wounded colleague. Once the man laid eyes upon the three soldiers his face instantly paled.

"N-No!"

It was too late. Before the man could run, Hunk raised his MP5 and cut the man down in a hail of bullets. The clatter of a door opening followed and within seconds more soldiers ran into the tunnel, only to be cut down by the combined force of the three Umbrella operatives.

Again motioning for his men to stay put, Hunk approached the alcove where the soldier's emerged from and cautiously stepped past their shredded corpses with gun raised. Hearing heavy breathing, he looked down to see one of the guards had survived, but had taken a bullet through the lung and wouldn't have much time left. Upon noticing him, the man raised his hand in a silent plea for him to hold his fire, but went unanswered as the Umbrella operative ended his suffering with a bullet to the face.

Returning his attention to the path ahead of him, he followed until it led to a simple weathered steel door. He almost wanted to crack a smart ass remark and call them a bunch of amateurs, but experience had taught him to never judge a book by its cover. Carefully approaching the door, he tried the handle and eased it open to find an electronically-locked reinforced door behind it.

Tapping the earpiece in his helmet he spoke, "This is Element Leader; I've found our way in. Stack up and prepare to move, you in particular Weir. There's an electronic lock I need you to bypass."

"Yes sir," the Israeli replied.

Within seconds the six other troopers had joined him and right away Weir was hard at work bypassing the electronic locking mechanism.

"Be a bloody cakewalk," Davy muttered to O'Doole who only nodded in acknowledgment.

The Brit was quickly silenced as Hunk appeared in front of him, breathing heavily. Aside from the breathing, nothing was spoken until the legendary agent shoved his MP5 in his subordinate's face.

"If you don't shut up and shape up, you'll get to see firsthand why they call me 'Mr. Death.' Trust me; it'll be the last thing you ever see!"

A loud beep cut through the tension as the door slid open and Weir stood back with weapon raised.

"Got it, boss!" he spoke and pointed his gun down a heavily-blackened corridor with the walls and ceiling threatening to come down at any second.

"Alright, let's move!"

It wasn't too long before the septet happened across more rattled H.C.F. commandos either recovering their balance from the blasts or lying on the ground wounded. They were under orders to shoot anything on sight and now was the time.

"Fire at will!" Hunk hollered to his men before squeezing down his trigger.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

With a mighty whoosh of flame, the facility's quartermaster fell back against the cement wall a charred hunk of flesh and bone.

Jake Cavanaugh sighed heavily as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. It had been a long trek through a virtual sea of humanity for the career criminal since escaping from the dungeon-like room, but he had managed to burn a path through everything that had crossed his path.

Strangely enough, shortly after his powers first manifested, there was a series of massive explosions that had nearly rocked the entire facility from its foundation. He had no idea who or what could have caused them, but he was silently thankful for what had occurred because it had bought him some time and distracted many of the commandos who had been hunting him.

On his way to the cellblock area he had once again happened across the very locker room in which he had obtained his disguise and the adjoining armory. Thankfully the quartermaster had been left alone in all the confusion and his pathetic attempts at fighting back had nearly reduced the criminal to laughter. The man had stuff he wanted and kept himself composed long enough to finish the man.

Like any armory before it, this facility's armory would have left any gun enthusiast feeling like a kid in a candy store and would have put any Ammu-Nation to shame. The walls were lined with various makes of assault rifles, shotguns, sniper rifles and handguns, as well as heavy artillery like mounted machine guns, grenade launchers, flamethrowers and even a few rocket launchers.

"I'm so going to have to bring the others here when I break them out," Jake said to himself as he reached for the nearest rack and pulled down an M4A1 assault rifle with a 8x scope, much like the same one he had picked up from the dying U.B.C.S. operative back in Raccoon City. He picked up six thirty round clips for the rifle and then snatched up four additional clips for the SOCOM pistol he had grabbed not too long ago. Given his newfound powers, he decided to forego grabbing any additional weapons and would use what he already had when his ammo ran out. He believed that deep down his powers probably had a limit that would gradually weaken him, so he didn't want to take his chances and risk spending all his energy.

"Alright…" Jake muttered and was about to exit the room when a bright glint caught his eye.

Turning towards the source, he looked onto the quartermaster's desk and found his sword, the very sword he had claimed for himself from that antique shop back in Raccoon. It had become a close ally of his throughout all the bloodshed and had saved him from countless sticky situations when he fought for his survival in the underground research facility. Now there it lay before him once again, perhaps one of the commandos had intended to take it as a souvenir; a testament to his would have been grim deed.

Jake smirked to himself and quickly snatched up the scabbard and slipped it around his shoulder before picking up the blade it self and doing a few practice slashes with it, before twirling it with the grace of a master and sliding it in gracefully. Turning on his heel he made his way back into the main corridor when a robotic female voice cut through the smoky air.

"The self-destruct sequence has been initiated. This sequence cannot be aborted. This facility will self-destruct in thirty minutes."

"Just great, thank you once again Wesker," the criminal sardonically muttered, knowing only the H.C.F. supervisor could possibly be behind that.

It was another challenge thrown his way, but once again it was one he was more than happy to accept.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Oh no, they're going to blow this place sky high, and with all of us still in here!" Kip Willows cried out as he anxiously gripped the bars to his cell and tried to look towards the cellblock entrance. A self-destruct countdown had just been announced and now everybody was on the edge grabbing the iron bars restraining them.

"As if we didn't know that already Einstein!" Arnold Cobbs called out across from him and he too looked out towards the entrance to see if anybody was coming. "Would be nice if they'd at least send us a going away committee; let us know that they're leaving us here to die for sure."

"And to think this is how I was going to die, in a cellblock about to be surrounded by total strangers…I wouldn't have expected this in a million years!" Kip whined falling back onto his cot and burying his face into his hands.

"Kip will you shut up, our luck has to change sooner or later!" Alyssa Redmond called out two cells down from him. "I sure hope our luck changes and fast," the ex-researcher thought to herself, wanting to escape to the outside world so she could live long enough to help bring down her heinous former employers.

Across from her Billy Coen stood staring at the entrance, anxious to see if anybody would come through, be they friend or foe. A series of explosions had sent all of them flying around their cramped cells and right now everybody was terrified at the possibility of additional explosions.

The ex-Marine studied the young woman closely. Indeed she was an attractive young woman in her late 20's with waist-length red hair she had kept in place with two golden hair bands and bright blue eyes, complimenting her light complexion and delicately-shaped face. With her bright pink kissable lips and figure that seemed too athletic for a scientist of all peoples, he definitely would have liked to have asked her out on a date, but now was not the time.

"Maybe once we're out of this joint I'll take her to some nice Italian place, maybe a nighttime walk on the beach too," he thought to himself focusing his attention on her body language. Her body itself appeared to be very tense as she gripped the iron bars, almost suggesting pessimism that they were going to die. When she looked up, her face displayed a look of courageous optimism that some knight in shining armor would come along to save them.

"It sure as hell better change. I didn't come all this way to die, especially when I'm about to expose those sick Umbrella bastards for who they really are!" Kip cried out impatiently.

Billy remembered all too well when the brash investigative reporter had first shown up. He was your typical pretty boy newsman with his slicked back blonde hair and toothy smile, dressed in a fancy beige suit, but now he was a total mess. Both of his blue eyes had been blackened and several bruises covered his exposed skin, the result of a beating he was given before being thrown into his cell. His once slicked back hair was now a mess and his fancy suit was tattered and covered in blood and grime. It almost seemed as if having his posh appearance ruined was a greater blow to him than the fact that he was being held captive in some facility located in the middle of nowhere, and more importantly by a corporation that would use him as a guinea pig for one of their diabolical experiments, much like Umbrella would have.

"Whatever's going on right now, I wouldn't doubt it at all if Umbrella was behind it," Linda spoke aloud, Rodriguez nodding quietly next to her.

"Amen to that sister!" Arnold blurted out next to them.

"I wonder if Jake is still alive…" Alyssa muttered loud enough for only Billy to hear.

Billy's thoughts then shifted to the mysterious criminal who had been in the very cell across from him just one day earlier. He remembered everything the man and told him about how he ended up in his predicament and had been there as the man was brutalized by Wesker and his goons. Unable to stand watching another human being tortured, he had attempted to help, only to receive a painful pistol whip for his troubles. When he came through the new cellmate was gone.

Just hours after Jake was taken away, he had been forced to listen to the man's gut-wrenching cries echo throughout the vast corridors as he endured some unknown form of torture. Whatever it was, the ex-Marine sure didn't want to think about it.

"He might be a criminal, but even he wouldn't have deserved such a fate," Billy thought to himself before replying to the researcher.

"I hope he is," he said, "If he's still alive, then he could be our ticket out of here."

Billy had never really contemplated what he would do if he made it out of this mess alive until now. Before he got caught up in this mess, he had been a Marine ensign accused of mass murder from a mission in Africa and was scheduled to be executed. On the night of his transport was when this whole mess began and it was thanks only to the cooperation of Rebecca Chambers that he had managed to make it out alive in the end. Now believed to be dead to the world, finding some place to go would be very difficult without arousing suspicion.

The varied rattles of several rifles firing in unison sounded outside the entrance, forcing everybody to fall back into the corners of their respective cells.

"Quick, it's him! Fire at will!" a random guard shouted over the thunderous rattles.

"Him?" Billy asked quietly, "Could it be…"

What sounded like the whoosh of a flamethrower replaced the rattle of gunfire, followed by dying screams and the sound of flesh burning.

"Oh God! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

The cellblock's electronic door was sent flying off of its hinges as a stream of fire flew along the narrow aisle, once again forcing the prisoners to bury themselves into their corners for protection. Just as suddenly as the firestorm occurred, it died down in a flash and all that was left in the end was the smoldering corpse of what had been an H.C.F. commando.

"Son of a…" Rodriguez rasped as he rose back to his feet and cautiously inched his way back to the bars, helping Linda back to her feet as he did. The smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils and he tried hard not to vomit, but knew he had to see what was coming.

Without a word, a figure wearing the soiled remnants of an H.C.F. uniform stepped into view and when they saw his exposed face their mood quickly changed.

"Jake, you're alive!" Alyssa called out as the career criminal stepped into the cellblock. An M4A1 was held in his right hand and his other hand was empty, but for some reason had tendrils of smoke wafting from it.

The career criminal nodded to the researcher, now having gotten his first actual view of the attractive young woman. He said nothing and approached her cell, raising his left hand again.

"Stand back!" he ordered and before the ex-researcher could question him, a beam of fire shot out of his hand to melt the door's lock away, at last freeing her after days of confinement.

Alyssa Redmond's mouth hung agape at what she had just witnessed. Sure, she had seen the Human Torch accomplish such an uncanny feat, but that was in her younger brother's Fantastic Four comics. Never before had she seen anything like it in real life and had to blink several times just to make sure she wasn't hallucinating.

"How did you-"

"Don't ask; let's just focus on getting the hell out of here!" Jake cut in as he yanked her door open and then walked over to melt the lock away on Billy's cell door.

"Glad to see you again buddy," Billy smirked; finally stepping out of his cell for the first time in what he thought would be a week.

"Thank me later," the criminal nodded moving over to Linda and Rodriguez's cell. He then moved over to free Arnold and then it was time to free Kip Willows.

Jake stood tall in front of the brash investigative reporter's cell and stared directly into the shorter man's blackened eyes, wanting to instill some fear into the man to deter any thoughts of rebellion.

Kip visibly trembled and his lower lip quivered as he stared into the larger man's icy bluish-gray eyes. He had heard stories of the Red Dragon's past offenses and wanted to choose his words carefully, for once actually attempting to be halfway respectful towards someone he may have offended.

"Look man that was nothing personal!" he said raising his hands defensively, "That's just what my bosses said about you! It's all their idea! I was just following orders!"

Jake said nothing in reply and growled menacingly, forcing the man to nearly wet himself. Satisfied at the result, he sighed and shook his head in amusement before melting the lock to his cell door.

"Unless you want to leave with a busted skull, I'd suggest you stick close and keep your mouth shut!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Okay, everybody locked and loaded?" Jake asked checking his M4A1 one last time before looking up to his comrades.

Raiding the armory had provided the group of seven with the firepower of a small militia. Billy, Arnold and Rodriguez each armed themselves with their own M4A1's and picked up a slew of hand grenades. Their secondary weapons were different as Billy picked up a powerful Desert Eagle, Arnold picking up two 226's and Rodriguez snatching up a Mark 22 .45 caliber handgun. Being the best hand-to-hand combatant of the three, Billy also picked up a large combat knife and holster for it which he strapped to his right shin and concealed with his pant leg.

Not being well-trained combatants, Kip and Linda both grabbed regular nine-millimeter Berettas and nothing else. Alyssa had undergone some firearms training in her life and grabbed an H&K VP-70, as well as a SPAS-12 assault shotgun, the trio agreeing they would let her take point behind their four highly-trained counterparts.

"We're damn ready alright," Billy said testing the sights on his rifle and looked back nodding to Arnold and Rodriguez.

"Alright, let's get the hell out of this dump. There shouldn't be too many of them left behind after what I did," Jake said before he opened the door and waved his rifle around to make sure the coast was clear. With a nod he motioned for the others to follow.

Traces of smoke still lingered in the air and the bodies of Jake's previous rampage still lay strewn about the corridor, either burnt to a crisp or riddled with bullets, making it seem much narrower than what it really was. The criminal remained indifferent as he moved forth and used his newly-heightened senses to listen in for any approaching threats.

"Some nice decorating you've done," Billy quipped kicking a scorched limb aside as it brushed against his boot.

"So where exactly are we going again?" Linda asked, moving around the bodies to get up by Rodriguez.

"Sector D," Jake replied, "There's a sub-basement with a canal that should lead us to the Topaz River and then from there take us to Ashley Moraine. One of the researchers told me about it."

"One of the researchers here helped you out?" Billy asked with a hint of uneasiness.

"Yeah, some old guy named Herbert Blanton," Jake replied rounding a corner.

"One of Wesker's boys is helping you out?" Rodriguez asked, "How the hell can we know this isn't a trap?"

"I don't think so," Jake spoke "He told me that he was sick of Wesker and his sick plans and he wanted out. He said he wanted to do something right for once and frankly, I'm willing to believe him."

"What happened to him? Do you know?" Linda asked.

Jake took a few seconds to reply, remembering how he had found the aged doctor callously murdered by his own colleagues, and the swift, bloody justice he dealt in return.

"He's dead. His own men shot him dead after they found out he set me free."

"Damn those vicious bastards," Alyssa spoke up, "They're no better than Umbrella."

"We'll make them pay, believe me, we'll make them pay," Kip spoke from behind her, finally saying something that she agreed with for once.

"Those explosions felt like they came from underground, how can we be certain this escape route would still be standing?" Arnold asked.

"I think I may have just found an alternate route if that is the case," Billy called out, pointing to a blood-spattered map and tracing his finger along one of the routes. "We're on Level 1 right now and according to this trail, we shouldn't be too far away from an outdoor helipad. If we're lucky they've probably forgotten about it in all this chaos, then we could use it to escape."

"Could be a good backup plan, just hope they don't have any artillery emplacements hidden around the forest, don't feel like becoming a target in some damned shooting range," Jake replied.

A whoosh was heard from ahead and a door slid aside to reveal an entire army of H.C.F. commandos.

"There they are, kill them!" one of them shouted and within seconds all of them were piling into the corridor guns blazing.

"Shit, move!" Jake shouted pushing Linda and Alyssa towards a side hallway and raised his rifle to fight back, joined by Billy, Arnold and Rodriguez. Several of the commandos fell right away, but those behind them kept pressing forth, forcing the four men to join their comrades.

"Guys get moving!" Billy shouted pulling out one of his grenades and tossing it around the corner. Several cries of surprise followed before the loud blast of the bomb going off.

The seven prisoners were now running down the side hallway forced to deviate from their course. Jake took up the rear flank and saw several pipes above that had signs warning of flammable content. With the commandos stepping into sight, the criminal shot a wave of fire to the nearest pipe, creating an explosion that sent him flying forward.

"Shit!" he rasped scrambling back to his feet and ran down the hallway being followed by a series of explosions and a wall of fire that licked at his back, severely scorching the back of his combat vest and erasing the H.C.F. logo that had been there.

Throwing himself through the nearest door, he hit the floor only to find himself in another large storage room filled with combat. Each of his comrades had been forced to take cover behind steel crates to avoid the heavy gunfire sent in their direction. Rolling for cover he found a position next to Billy.

"Damn these freaks just don't know when to give up," the ex-Marine shouted over the cacophony of loud pops.

"What else did you expect?" Jake sardonically asked between the pops and pings.

Arnold and Rodriguez fired away wildly at their attackers while Kip and Linda remained largely hidden. Alyssa fought back valiantly and had managed to drop two of the attacking commandos in her wake. For looking like a bookworm, she had proven to be a formidable fighter.

Popping himself out into the open, Jake fired a quick fireball into the cluster of attacking soldiers, managing to drop three right away, and burn a fourth who stood near them. Raising his assault rifle, he managed to make a few of his bullets ricochet and drop a few of the enemy troopers before he was forced to reload. By now Arnold and Rodriguez had been forced to reload, joined shortly by Billy and with it, the gunfire sped up.

"We don't have enough ammo to take all of them, what are we going to do?" Kip called out, wincing as a bullet pinged loudly above him.

Jake knew the reporter had a point, that they were heavily outnumbered and would soon run out of ammo. Despite his newfound powers, he would have to be out in the open to eliminate them, and with the speed of a firearm he doubted he would have the speed to take all of them down before he was eventually shot in the head and killed.

Gunfire continued to pierce the air above, but this time it was the dying screams of the commandos that followed.

Peeking his head out from the container he hid behind, Jake watched as the H.C.F. commandos suddenly started dropping by one by one and soon found the cause. Emerging from one of the darkened side corridors was a small band of seven soldiers, each dressed like the H.C.F. commandos, their only major difference being that their uniforms were a shade of dark green compared to the black of H.C.F. Leading the charge was a larger man carrying an M-60E3 heavy machine gun flanked by two men with M-4's. Four more men would soon follow and were shooting at everything wearing a black uniform. At that moment, the career criminal was deeply thankful that any symbols that could have mistakenly identified him as an H.C.F. agent had been burned away.

"Who are these guys?" Kip blurted out loud and then covered his mouth when he realized he was loud enough to be heard.

"They almost look like Umbrella Special Forces," Alyssa replied.

"I don't know what the hell they're doing here, but they're sure helping us out," Linda added.

"Then we'd best get the hell out of her before they decide to pay attention to us," Rodriguez spoke up. Looking around quickly, the seven survivors quickly rushed out of the room and towards the nearest exit.

Up above Hunk watched indifferently as the group of seven survivors hastily exited the room. They were of no concern to him so he left them be.

"Boss, that group right there," Santiago pointed out training his rifle on a dark-haired Caucasian man with a sword strapped to his back, "Should we take them out? Make sure they can't tell the outside world what's going on in here?"

The squad leader placed his hand on the shooter's rifle and forcibly lowered it, "Leave them, they are of no concern to us. We would only be wasting our time and ammo with them. Now let's get to the labs so we can get those samples."

Jake and his crew entered another corridor were surviving commandos were present, and fighting alongside them were a few members of the science team clad in hazmat suits, mostly armed with pistols and shotguns.

The career criminal took a position behind another steel crate with Billy and the two men fired away, both dropping numerous attackers with deadly precision. The others joined in and surprisingly, Kip had managed to drop two of their attackers, leaping up like he was going to celebrate until he was forced down by another hail of bullets fired in his direction.

Alyssa covered the wounded Linda, firing back until her shotgun had run out of ammo and now she was down to her H&K VP70.

"Linda stay down," she ordered firing most of her current clip towards the attacking commandos. Unfortunately the ex-researcher was unaware that she was standing near an electrical box and a bullet struck, sending out sparks that had managed to temporarily stun her.

The force of the blast was still strong enough to send her flying back and Alyssa landed hard against a nearby wall. She placed her hands to her head attempting to steady herself, but the gunfire was too much for her and she found herself stumbling into a nearby hall.

When she finally could open her eyes, she could only see a black gloved hand reaching for her.

With the number of attackers having severely dwindled, Jake finally had enough room and let a ball of fire surround his right hand, concentrating to make it grow. When it was finally the size of a basketball, he stood up and waved his hand through the air, a wall of fire following him. Most of the remaining commandos were caught in the attack and were left to writhe on the ground in agony before finally succumbing to the flames. Those who did survive were cut down by the combined assault of Billy and Arnold.

"That all of them?" Arnold asked staring carefully at the corpses blanketing the floor.

"I think so, everybody here still alive?" Billy called out.

"Right next to you," Jake spoke, blowing away the smoke that had risen from his hand.

"I'm alive," Rodriguez called out.

"Present!" Kip shouted.

"Still among the living," Linda added.

"Wait, where's Alyssa?" Billy asked and everybody looked around to find the redheaded researcher missing.

Kip and Linda both stood up and rounded the nearby corner, a horrified gasp coming from the former Umbrella researcher.

"I think we found our answer," Kip spoke.

Around the corner lay the prone body of Alyssa Redmond staring blankly towards the ceiling. Jake pushed his way through the group and knelt down next to her and felt her neck for a pulse. As he moved her long hair aside he spotted the ring of black marks around her neck, ones that could have only been left behind by someone powerful enough to snap her neck with one hand.

"I think I know what happened to her now," Jake spoke as Linda and Kip both knelt down to examine her corpse.

"Some sick bastard broke her neck," Linda shuddered in horror.

"And I think I know who did," Jake spoke taking one final look to the dead woman. "Whatever happened to her, hopefully she is with Sebastian now," he thought to himself nodding grimly, remembering the innocent researcher who had had a crush on her.

"Well come on, we'd better get moving now before another one of us can die," Billy said looking towards the corridor where they had just been and the group started moving. Memorizing the map Billy had pointed out, Jake knew they couldn't be too far away from the helipad and was anxious to get out.

"Alright, the helipad shouldn't be too far from-"

Before the ex-Marine could finish, he was brought to a screeching halt, as were the others. Reaching the others, Jake used his height advantage to see over everybody else and when he saw what halted them, he immediately narrowed his eyes in anger.

On a catwalk before them stood the H.C.F. supervisor himself Albert Wesker standing tall above them with his arms crossed. A confident smirk appeared on the man's face as he looked down upon them, trying to emphasize a point that he was better than them.

"Wesker…" Jake growled menacingly, once again standing face to face with the very man who had tried to take his humanity from him and transform him into one of his brainwashed slaves.

"Ah Mr. Cavanaugh, I see you've actually managed to make it this far. It appears my gift to you has worked nicely," he spoke in a calm, smug tone.

"Cut the crap, this 'gift' you've given me has turned me into a freak just like you, but it's also given me a greater chance at kicking your punk ass!" Jake retorted, flames surrounding his hand to make a point.

"I see the Hellfire Virus has done its trick, truly a shame Dr. Blanton had to let his emotions get in the way. If it weren't for him, for once in your life you would have been a legitimate soldier working for a legitimate corporation. Like I said, truly a shame it is Mr. Cavanaugh," Wesker said shaking his head.

"Bullshit, I would've been nothing more than a mindless, expendable pawn if it were up to you!" Jake shot back, the flames growing.

"You really are that eager to die, aren't you?" the ex-S.T.A.R.S. captain chuckled and with a grace granted by the virus running through his veins, performed a back flip and landed right in front of the platform just feet away from the group, "Well I'm more than happy to accept your challenge. Remember it was I who easily beat you, the renowned "deadly assassin" down back in Maple, showing that you're apparently not the master that you thought you were."

"Keep talking asshole, back then I didn't have your 'gift,'" Jake spoke cracking his knuckles ready for yet another fight.

Looking cautiously over his shoulder he could see the apprehension in the eyes of his remaining companions, all of whom were drawn between wanting to run and with their weapons already drawn wanting to provide backup.

"Billy, get the others to the helipad!" Jake ordered, short and to the point.

"But Jake, this guy's dangerous!" Billy protested.

"Do it! I have to handle this prick by myself," Jake said returning his gaze to the mutant supervisor, "I have a little score to settle and I don't need any of you getting in the way!"

"Jake no," Linda cried trying to leap for him, but was held back by Arnold and Rodriguez.

"Get out of here now!" he hollered and produced the flames around his hand to goad her forth, "I'll meet up with you guys at the helipad, now get moving!"

The five remaining cellmates looked at him warily before nodding in understanding and then proceeded towards the waiting helipad.

With his companions out of the way Jake returned his attention to Wesker, cool and calculating as ever with arms crossed over his chest.

"Alright you bastard, one way or another we're going to end this right now just you and I, one on one. You might have gotten the jump on me twice before, but the third time is always a charm and this time there's no sneaking up on me."

"Fine, we'll do things your way," Wesker said cracking his own knuckles, "Just don't expect any mercy on my part."

"I would expect no less from you," Jake said raising his fists, "Now shut up and let's get this thing over with!"

Author's Note: I'm sorry to disappoint any Hunk fans out there, but this chapter (and possibly the next) will be his only major appearance in Darkness Arises. Before you start throwing rotten fruit at me, rest assured that I do plan on using him more prominently in future works, so as his nickname "Mr. Death" would suggest, we haven't seen the last of him as "the Death cannot die."


	51. Chapter 45: Payback's a Bitch

Darkness Arises

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 45: Payback's A Bitch

"Well what are you waiting for Cavanaugh? You've been waiting for this moment, now come get some!" Wesker taunted beckoning his younger adversary forth.

With a determined grunt Jake Cavanaugh ran forth at full speed. As he ran forth, Wesker stood there confidently expecting that his opponent would easily lose his cool and waited for the man to get right up to him before he drew his fist back and attempted a lightning quick strike.

As if he could read his opponent's mind, Jake rolled underneath the attempted strike, catching his opponent by surprise and even managing to surprise himself with his newfound speed.

"And I thought you were supposed to be the next step in human evolution?" Jake taunted before leaping at the supervisor and catching him with a flying kick to the chest.

Albert Wesker grunted as the wind was knocked from his lungs, but he quickly regained his composure and managed to bring his wrist up in time to deflect a high kick directed at his face. The onslaught didn't end there as Jake followed through with a series of punches and kicks. He blocked and dodged everything that was thrown at him, this time with more effort needed. After having enough he fired back with his own barrage of punches and kicks, but likewise his attacks were blocked and dodged, neither of the two managing to actually hit each other.

Watching as the supervisor reared back for another powerful haymaker, Jake managed to bring his arms up just in time to block the attack with his arms crossed in front of him. Contrary to what he expected from before, the block struck him just like any ordinary punch would. In the past that move would have easily broken his wrist.

Raising his foot again the career criminal attempted another high kick, only to have his foot connect with the blonde-haired man's wrist. Using his enhanced strength, Wesker forced his opponent into a back flip and sent the man landing on a nearby crate.

A crack sounded beneath Jake as his knee was embedded in the crate's wooden surface, but yet he barely felt any pain. Despite Wesker's gift warping his humanity, it had also heightened his durability and a landing that would have previously shattered his kneecap instead left a few small scratches and he easily shook it off. Seeing that the ex-S.T.A.R.S. captain was watching him closely he decided to play with the man's head before making his next move and leapt from crate to crate at an advanced speed before leaping towards him and performing a somersault kick while airborne.

The force of the attack sent Wesker flying backward, but he managed to catch himself in a roll before crashing against the wall. He slowly rose back to his feet and rubbed his swollen chin, the black and blue marks disappearing in seconds.

"Well done Jacob," he said, "The viruses running through your system certainly have improved your physical abilities, but that still will not save you in the end."

Grabbing a nearby broken pipe, the H.C.F. supervisor snatched it up and chucked it towards his opponent like a javelin.

Jake saw the jagged object from a mile away and bent his head to the side to avoid it, a pointed end nearly clipping his ear as he moved. "Hmph, you're a superhuman now, but yet you still have to rely on a weapon to take me down…I see you've still maintained your human cowardice. Well two can play that game."

With a wave of his hand, Jake sent a large fireball flying towards his opponent. Wesker managed to duck underneath the attack, but his sleeve was scorched and he would find himself having to pat it quickly as embers gathered. Seeing the man's reaction, he quickly launched another fireball at the man's feet and knocked him to the floor. His adversary temporarily grounded, the criminal rolled forward and then flipped into the air to perform an axe kick, but the supervisor rolled out of the way and his foot was buried into the ground, leaving a small crater where he connected.

Seeing his opponent temporarily distracted, Wesker kicked out his foot and knocked the man from his feet. Kipping back to his own feet, he mounted his downed opponent and began punching away wildly.

Jake was much quicker this time around and managed to block most of the attacks thrown at him, but was caught by the final punch and Wesker would follow up by head butting him repeatedly and grabbed him by the shoulders banging his head against the floor.

"Your fire won't always work on me, criminal," Wesker spoke, "You'll have to do better than that if you wish to make it out alive."

Grunting in pain between the blows raining down upon him, Jake struggled to activate his flame powers hoping to burn his opponent, but the man was just too fast and now leapt back to his feet, giving him a hard kick to the side that sent him flying into a stack of crates. Buckling underneath the force of his body weight, the criminal could only grimace in pain as the heavy crates rained down upon him one by one, the weight of their contents making it feel like an entire cluster of boulders was falling upon him.

"Foolish worm," Wesker spat, "and to think just seconds ago you practically massacred everybody in this entire building. You truly overstepped your boundaries when you decided to cross me. Nobody crosses Albert Wesker and lives!"

"Damn it…" Jake coughed, spitting out some warm blood, "This bastard is still no pushover even with me brought up to his level." Turning his head he watched as Wesker stood there impassively with arms crossed again.

"Can this truly be the Red Dragon I heard all those infamous stories about? Well now that I've met you in person, it seems the hype doesn't match up to the real deal. Truly you are more pitiful than what they accredit you with," Wesker scoffed.

Now the career criminal was truly getting angrier by the second and with that anger, he attempted to use it to fuel himself into continuing and could feel his blood literally beginning to boil. Increasing his breathing rate and tensing his muscles up, he managed to throw one of the crates off of his body hard enough to shatter. Continuing the process he flung every single crate that covered him away until he was finally able to push himself back to his feet and stare eye to eye with his opponent.

"If there's one thing you haven't taken into account, it's that you're going to have to move Heaven and Hell to beat me that easily," the criminal rasped menacingly and with it flames surrounded his hands. "I don't know if I'll make it out of this ordeal alive, but if I have to go to Hell today, then you can make damn sure that I plan on bringing you down with me!"

Waving his hands around he let the fire grow until it was the size of a small boulder and stomped his foot hard against the floor, thrusting his hands forth and launching the larger fireball in Wesker's direction.

Much like he expected, the mutated supervisor had easily leapt over the large fireball, but now he would pull out something the man didn't expect. Charging his flames into his right fist he ran forth and propelled himself into the air with superhuman speed. He was able to watch as the look of confidence on the supervisor's face changed to one of surprise and with a mighty crack, his burning fist connected with the mutant's jaw and sent him flying even higher into the air.

Albert Wesker was airborne for what seemed like an eternity in his own mind, but in reality was only a few seconds. With a heavy thud he struck the floor hard and felt some of his ribs crack. Forcing himself back into a sitting position, he could only sit there with a look of surprise upon his face. Sure he knew he was the one who had given the man his powers, but he didn't expect him to be able to master them so early. Saying nothing he sat there in silence and waiting for his ribs to rapidly heal themselves before rising back to his feet.

"Impressive Cavanaugh, I'll admit I didn't expect you to pick up on new techniques so early, but I doubt you will live long enough to discover any new ones." Taking a deep breath, Wesker belted out an ear-piercing shriek also made by the Hunters.

Jake grunted loudly in anguish and clamped his hands over his ears hoping to block out the bone-jarring sound, but even with his new powers it was still too much for him.

Taking advantage of the opening he had created, Wesker charged at Jake and delivered a flying kick to his midsection, sending him flying backwards into a steel support beam. Drawing his fist back again he hoped to aim for his opponent's face, but the younger man had ducked and he drove his fist into the steel itself, leaving behind an imprint where he had connected. The force of the blow would have shattered a normal man's hand, but Albert Wesker simply shrugged the pain away before he again buried his foot into his opponent's side and grabbed him by the back of his vest, sending him flying head on into a pile of steel pipes.

"Pathetic!" Wesker laughed as he picked up one of the many steel pipes and proceeded to strike his prone opponent repeatedly, reducing the man to a bruised and bloodied mess.

"Ahh!!!" Jake cried out as the pipe struck him hard in the shoulder blade. By now he had taken so many shots from a steel pipe he couldn't tell what was and what wasn't broken on him and if he had sustained any internal damage or not. He wouldn't doubt it at all.

"But that virus I have in my system…it's the same as Wesker's isn't it?" he thought to himself, "If I have the same thing as him then I should be able to heal at an accelerated pace. My only problem though, I'd have to get far away from him long enough so I can heal myself." It was as he lay crawling on the ground, his hand brushed against the M4A1 he had acquired in the armory. He knew it probably wouldn't have much effect at killing Wesker, but that wasn't what he had in mind right now.

Raising the pipe high above his head, Wesker prepared to deliver the killing blow to his downed opponent and chuckled slightly as he brought it down. Instead of the wet thud of striking human flesh, he heard the loud ping of his pipe striking the floor as his opponent had rolled out of the way. Jake Cavanaugh had managed to roll out of the way at the last second and now in his hands he held his assault rifle.

Jake's mind raced in desperation as he squeezed the trigger of his rifle. Wesker saw what was coming and quickly leapt out of the way as his first three bullets tore through the air. He watched closely as the supervisor began leaping around like one of the Hunters and slowed his breath so he could concentrate and follow the man as he leapt about. With a squeeze of the trigger, more bullets tore through the air and most had missed their mark, but one had ricocheted and struck the fleeing supervisor in his left thigh.

Wesker had cried out in surprise as the bullet buried itself into his leg and his escape was thwarted, sending him crashing into yet another stack of crates. Seeing his opponent slowed down, Jake fired the rest of his clip into his enemy. It was a pleasing sight to him as the bullets struck the man's mutated body. He knew they probably wouldn't kill him, but it was satisfying just to see the man actually experience some pain, much like what he had just put him through.

"Yeah…choke on that you sick bastard…" Jake rasped as he watched his hand clench before him. The burning feeling returned and within seconds his hand was no longer hurting and he was able to push himself up. Clenching his teeth he could feel the burning sensation travel throughout his body and as it subsided, the pain went with it. Within seconds he was slowly staggering back to his feet and breathing heavily.

At the same time Wesker was slowly rising back to his feet and the criminal watched closely as the bullets seemingly popped themselves out of his skin and with a few cracks of his joints he was ready to fight again.

"I might have underestimated you for all your worth Cavanaugh, but things are just getting started!" Wesker said dusting himself off and then getting back into a fighting stance.

"You're damn right they are, and I'm going to start by ripping your head off your fucking shoulders!" Jake growled.

Without a word both men charged at each other again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

What had once been a sterile white laboratory was now a completely ransacked mess. Papers covered with algorithms and chemical equations littered the floors, laboratory equipment had been smashed to pieces and control consoles everywhere had been shot up, leaving sparks flying randomly throughout the lab and grass cracking under every footstep. Chemicals of all colors dripped onto the floor, creating weird discolorations, their functions unknown. Most of all, the room was littered with the shot up corpses of guards and researchers, all of whom were crimson messes lying in numerous twisted positions of agony.

Tearing through all of them had been an easy task for Hunk and his men proving they had stricken at an opportune time. Apparently they had arrived right in the middle of some full-scale escape attempt by their prisoners and one of them had succeeded in slaughtering a vast majority of them, perfect timing alright.

At the moment Santiago and O'Doole maintained a close watch over Weir, who was in the process of hacking into the frozen storage unit while Schenker and Davy paced about the room, guarding side entrances for possible intruders. Berry guarded the front entrance with machine gun at the ready, anxious to slice through anything that didn't look friendly to them.

"Ya' gettin' anywhere man? It's taken you nearly thirty freakin' minutes to get past that damned door," O'Doole complained, "I say ya' oughta' lemme blow the door down for ya'."

A loud beep rang out, indicating the electronics specialist had successfully bypassed the door.

"You were saying?" the Israeli asked sarcastically as the door slid open and let a cool chill into the large open lab.

Hunk quickly made his way over to the now opened frozen storage unit and pushed his way past them three men and began the search for what they came for. Rows of shelves lined each wall of the narrow unit, only wide enough for them to move in a single file line. It wasn't until they got to the very back of the room that they had finally found what they came for.

"Found one of 'em boss," O'Doole called out as he stood in the D section and pulled out several vials containing a viscous blue chemical, known to the Umbrella staff as "Daylight." Not too far away Santiago would find the purple liquid that was the G-Virus or "God Virus to its creator William Birkin. At the very end of the room Hunk himself had found the green T-Virus or "Tyrant Virus."

Earlier on the group had managed to find the optical data discs stolen from the Raccoon outpost, along with some printed out files they had taken from the archives room. As an afterthought, they had gathered some important looking documents belonging to H.C.F., perhaps something they could use to gather intel on future movements of their rival company.

Whatever the deal was, they had gotten what they had come for.

"Alright, we've got what we need, now let's move out!" Hunk ordered.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Damn it Arnold, lay down some goddamned cover fire will ya'?" Billy Coen shouted to Arnold as he fired a barrage at an attacking H.C.F. commando.

"I'm trying damn it!" the older man shouted back just as his rifle ran out of ammo. Taking cover behind a steel crate at the side of the helipad, he quickly ejected his spent clip and slapped in a new one before resuming his fight.

As they had predicted, they found a working CH-47 Chinook transport helicopter waiting for them. At first the area seemed devoid of any threats, but that would all change the second Rodriguez had managed to get the chopper started up. An entire platoon of H.C.F. commandos had shown up now and attacked the group, who fought back in a desperate attempt to prevent the chopper from coming under heavy damage.

Billy popped out from the air conditioning unit he hid behind and fired another quick barrage, striking a commando in the shoulder and sending him crumpling to the tarmac writhing in agony. Two other commandos quickly stood over their fallen comrade and pinned him down again. It was tempting to pull out a hand grenade on them, but then he would have risked damaging the chopper.

Thinking of the chopper made him look over towards the cockpit, hoping Rodriguez was alright.

He looked over struggling to keep his eyes open through the blasting wind and had to push strands of his hair out of the way to get a good look. Much to his relief he saw the pilot still alive and going over the controls, but he would have to act quickly before one of the commandos could get the idea of putting a bullet through the windshield.

"Damn it Jake, you'd better get over here pretty fast!" Billy thought to himself as he fired a few more rounds at the enemy troopers. Things were getting desperate now and it would only be a matter of time before they were overrun. Rodriguez wouldn't be able to help because he had to remain at the controls and neither Kip nor Linda was trained for this kind of scenario.

Arnold stood across from him desperately trying to hold his ground, his gunfire nearly muted out by the deafening whirr of the helicopter blades above. Being a hardened combat veteran himself, this was even too much for him and the look on his face showed he was ready to crack under pressure.

A series of loud pops rang out from his right and Billy turned to see Kip sticking his arm out and firing wildly at whatever he could. However, it looked like he was only going to end up expending all his ammunition and getting himself killed.

"Kip, get your ass back in there you crazy idiot!" Billy hollered, flinching as bullets pinged against the crate he hid behind.

The investigative reporter ignored the ex-Marine's order reloading his pistol and continuing his fight, pressing forth until the gun was finally shot out of his hand.

"Shit!" he cursed loudly, throwing himself back into the safety of the chopper.

"Dumbass," Billy muttered ejecting a spent clip and injecting a fresh one. He raised his rifle again and prepared to fire until he looked over to Arnold again. Reaching over the nearest concrete wall was another commando with a rifle trained on the U.B.C.S. operative. Unfortunately the veteran was oblivious to the danger he was in.

"Arnold look out!" Billy shouted raising his rifle and firing at the commando. Shooting a few rounds upward, the commando was hit several times before finally falling to the ground with a sickening crack. No sooner than the first man falling, there were quickly two others there to take his place. Now aware of their ambush, Arnold too was firing at the commandos at a frantic pace. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, those attacking from the front began climbing over the front wall aided by their grappling hooks.

"Damn it, don't come any closer!!!" Arnold yelled over the rattle of his assault rifle. With the heart of a lion he continued to fight back against the relentless commandos, who appeared in seemingly endless droves much like the zombies of Raccoon City. He continued firing away and dropped several enemy commandos until his rifle unexpectedly jammed.

"Oh God, why now?" he whimpered staring down at his rifle in disbelief. It was then that the bullets found their way through his vest, including a round that caught him in the throat. Staring over to his companion Billy, he could only let out a bloody gurgle before his vision faded.

Billy stared in silent shock as he watched the veteran U.B.C.S. operative crumple over onto the runway with a heavy thud, lingering for several seconds before he finally succumbed to Death's embrace.

"Damn it…" he muttered, now knowing that the responsibility to protect the chopper was his alone. He was getting dangerously low on ammo and couldn't really rely upon the others for help right now. Things were truly desperate now and within seconds they would be overrun.

"Jake, you'd better get here as fast as you can," he whispered to himself, strongly hoping that the career criminal was still alive and would come barreling onto the helipad soon.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Striking both of their feet together as each man simultaneously attempted a spinning back kick, both Jake and Wesker were thrown back by the force of their blow, each landing on one knee and panting heavily.

This had literally been the toughest fight of his young life for Jake Cavanaugh and his mind was telling him to collapse and rest, but his body was driven solely by adrenaline. Numerous bruises were present on his face and small cuts were present through the tears in his clothing all over his body.

"He might be good…but not enough," he told himself preparing for another attack.

Wesker stood across from him also panting heavily, something that rarely happened now thanks to the virus in his system. Then again, he was no longer going up against an ordinary human, he was now up against somebody who was on an equal level as him. Beneath his shades a look of worry was present in his reptilian eyes, one he was luckily able to mask.

"I'll give it to you worm…you have improved…" he spoke briefly, wanting to save his breath for combat.

"That's the best you can come up with?" Jake chuckled, "A retarded third grader could insult better than you!"

Wesker huffed and charged at the career criminal, attempting to catch him with a shoulder tackle, but Jake ducked and caught him with a drop toehold, sending him landing hard on his stomach. He tried to capitalize on his takedown, but Wesker responded by landing a mule kick that caught him in the gut and then used his agility to perform a back flip and land behind his opponent.

With his opponent still recovering from having the wind knocked out of him, Albert Wesker got behind him and placed him in a Cobra Clutch submission hold.

"You really should think before you speak, you know that?" the supervisor whispered breathing heavily down his opponent's neck. Using all his strength he clamped down harder on the man's throat and throttled him violently, leaving his arms to flail wildly.

Jake struggled as he was thrown about violently, feeling like his neck could be snapped at any minute. It was hard to breathe and it prohibited him from accessing his fire powers as he remained locked in the virtual tug of war. Grunting in exertion he tried to steady both his feet on the ground in the hopes of setting his opponent up for a flip and thrashed until he was trying to head butt his opponent in the chin. Moving his feet around beneath him, he tried to lock his foot around Wesker's to slow the superhuman, thrashing until he brought his foot up into the mutant's groin.

Wesker oomphed loudly as the boot-covered foot was driven into his groin, showing he wasn't as superhuman as he thought. Having found a weakness on his opponent, Jake mule kicked him again and continued until his grip began to loosen and with one of his arms freed he elbowed his opponent in the neck and sent him staggering backward. Charging the flames into his left hand, he swung his fist backward and connected with the man's face.

The supervisor's shades were destroyed by the impact as he was knocked backwards and he could no longer hide the frustration in his reptilian eyes. Portions of the man's face had been burnt away, making him look like one of the living dead himself.

"You'll pay for that!" Wesker growled and made another charge towards his opponent.

The two men met again in a flurry of fists and feet, both managing to block or dodge each other's moves in a back and forth struggle that continued for several minutes, both men's heightened endurance enabling it. Wesker attempted to get some payback and kick Jake in the groin, but the criminal blocked his attempt with his foot and knocked him back a few steps. Grunting, the H.C.F. supervisor then attempted a right hook, only to have his hand caught in midair.

Clamping down on his opponent's hand, Jake smirked confidently and once again summoned his flames. Squeezing down on his opponent's knuckles, he watched as his flames engulfed the man's hand and melted his black glove.

Albert Wesker couldn't believe it, he was actually feeling intense pain, something he believed would never be possible again once the T-Virus was injected into his system. He was supposed to be an evolved, god-like figure, but here he was now having his ass handed to him by a common thug who was in the middle of burning his hand. The pain was excruciating and sickening as he listened to his flesh boil and grinded his teeth together in an effort to avoid crying out in pain.

"I could do this all day," Jake smiled as he watched his flames travel further up his opponent's arm, his skin gradually withering and blackening. "But then again, things do get boring after awhile," he said and launched a fireball into the man's chest.

Shaking his head mockingly, Jake performed a roundhouse to his dazed opponent, followed by a spinning heel kick and an inverted roundhouse kick that almost knocked him from his feet. Flipping into the air he performed another somersault kick that snapped Wesker's head back and sent him airborne once again.

Before the H.C.F. supervisor could fully rise back to his feet, he was again assaulted by a barrage of flaming punches as the criminal attacked him with a series of jabs, hooks, haymakers, back fists, uppercuts and crosses before he was given another power punch that sent him flying backward. On a combative high, Jake mounted his fallen opponent and began driving his fists repeatedly into the supervisor's face and was soon pounding his head into the floor hoping to shatter his skull.

"Payback's a bitch!!!" he roared triumphantly having finally managed to get the upper hand against his adversary for once and was ready to kill the man.

Pulling out the sword strapped to his back, Jake stood up and raised the blade high above his head ready to decapitate his opponent. There would be no remorse in his actions. With a drop of his blade he prepared for the kill.

A gunshot rang out and the criminal was forced to flinch as a crimson mist erupted from his shoulder, knocking his blade off course instead forcing him to sever the H.C.F. supervisor's right arm just beneath his elbow.

Wesker flinched as his severed appendage fell next to him and looked up as the criminal gritted his teeth to prevent a cry of pain. Blood ran down the man's shoulder from a bullet wound and he looked towards the back of the room to see five of his men storming the room with guns blazing all aiming for the career criminal.

"Kill him…kill him!" the supervisor shouted pushing himself back to his feet with his one remaining hand and retreating as fast as he could move.

"Wesker!!!" Jake hollered in pain as he was forced to retreat behind a storage container. He angrily struck the container with his good hand knowing that his enemy was getting away, but was at the same time pinned down by more of his lackeys. The situation wasn't completely lost yet he thought to himself as he felt where he had been shot. A small hole had been torn through his arm by the commando's bullet and what normally would have taken him days to recover from was now taking only mere minutes as the burning sensation returned, letting him know that the wound was gradually starting to mend itself.

"I got him!" a voice called out to the others and he looked up to see a commando standing before him with gun raised.

Raising his good hand, Jake launched a stream of fire at the man and sent him flying backwards into one of his colleagues, igniting that man as well. Peeking around the container that hid him, he watched one of the soldiers pull a grenade from his vest and chuck it in his direction. Hearing the metallic object clunk next to him, he quickly flipped away and then created a wall of fire to shield himself from the blast.

"Weak!" Jake snapped as he charged towards the commandos using the wall of fire to shield himself from their bullets. At full force he tackled the commando in front, setting him ablaze with the flames and then performed an airborne spinning kick to knock down the other two into unconsciousness.

"You're not getting away so easily this time," Jake said to himself as he continued his hunt for the mutant supervisor.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dusk was fast approaching the general vicinity of Verdant Mountain and Hunk silently thanked himself for having enough common sense to bring a flare gun along. Raising it to the sky he pulled the trigger and launched a bright flare that would illuminate the area long enough to draw in their extraction chopper.

The veteran operative sighed heavily as he saw down on an overturned tree and reached into one of his vest compartments for a cigarette. He hadn't had one all day long and his cravings were about ready to rip the flesh away from his bones calling out for their precious nicotine. It was another successful mission and he felt he had earned it.

"Man, those H.C.F. guys were wimps!" Berry chuckled, "I must've shot down twenty of those punks before they even had the chance to draw their guns. I seriously expected more of a challenge from those ass clowns if they're trying to challenge Umbrella, guess I was proven wrong." The heavy machine gunner had removed his gasmask, revealing himself to a fair-skinned Caucasian with short brown hair shaved into a buzz cut.

"Heh, if this is all they have to offer then they're certainly nowhere near our league. We should be able to crush them in no time," Schenker added, taking a puff on his own cigar.

"I concur, I shot a bloody guard right through his damned eye, never even saw it comn'," Davy added taking a bite from his rations.

"You oughta' be happy we were going up against a bunch of freakin' zombies or other mutants that stuff can create," Santiago spoke, recalling his previous experiences battling both zombies created by the T-Virus and Hunters, Lickers and other monstrosities birthed from the vile green liquid.

"He's got a point there," O'Doole spoke taking a swig from a small flask of whiskey he had smuggled in his gear.

"Well now that we got the damned things, I just wanna get the hell out of here and get my next frigging paycheck," Weir spoke, looking uneasily to the silver metallic case that sat at Hunk's feet.

The Israeli's comment made Hunk himself now focus on the case that sat at his feet. Contained within that steel case were two manmade viruses that could very well mean the end of all mankind if they were to be exposed to the masses. These were the very viruses he had seen in action during his time back in Raccoon City and he sure as hell wasn't ready to endure another such scenario. Feeling his subordinate's agitation, he picked up the case and held it closer to his person, looking over to the man and nodding silently.

"I saw too much crap go down in that cursed city and I sure as hell aren't ready to relive it all over again," Hunk thought to himself stubbing his cigarette into the side of the dead tree he sat on. He then pulled out his canteen and took a long chug, finally pulling it away as he could hear the whirr of helicopter blades in the distance.

"Get ready boys, they'll be here any minute to pick us up now," Hunk said scooping up his gasmask and rifle and then making one final check over the case to make sure it was securely fastened shut.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake raced quickly down the blood-drenched hallway and leapt over several corpses like they were hurdles as he pursued his wounded adversary. Several bloody footprints gave away the supervisor's trail and he swore he could almost smell the man too.

At the corridor's end was a malfunctioning electronic door that slid back and forth every few seconds and it was there the bloody footprints ended. The sound of heavy gunfire was heard from beyond the door and he could only know by then that his companions were in trouble and desperately needed his help. He was confident the wounded supervisor wouldn't get too far and decided for now he would help them.

Charging through the opened door he found himself on a catwalk overlooking the helipad and was instantly met with several rifle barrels pointed in his face. Conjuring a protective wall of flame, he absorbed any bullets fired in his direction and then launched the wall of fire towards his opponents, incinerating all of them. There were still several commandos remaining on the tarmac below, all firing upon a cornered Billy and closing in fast.

"Hang on man, I'm coming!" Jake hollered down to his cornered companion.

Over the roaring helicopter blades and constant volleys of gunfire, the ex-Marine heard a voice he thought he would never hear again. Looking up to the catwalk above he spotted a very much alive Jake Cavanaugh charging down the steps towards him. He was a bit irritated with the man taking his sweet time, but deep down he had never been happier to see the career criminal.

Jake powered up his fists as a lone commando came running at him and he blocked the man's attempted pistol whip, raising his fist to deliver a flaming backhand that sent the man over the railing and falling to his death. Charging up another large fireball, he quickly sent it soaring downward into a mass of commandos firing wildly upon him and launched a second to take down another commando preparing to fire upon Billy.

With the remaining commandos now distracted by the presence of Jake, Billy took his chance to fire back upon his attackers and managed to take down several more as the criminal covered him. Combining their efforts together, their remaining enemies fell at a much quicker pace and it would be one final round to the face of a battered H.C.F. sniper, the area was clear of any additional threats.

"'Bout time you showed up! You sure took your sweet time you know!" Billy shouted as his long overdue companion approached him.

"Yeah, yeah save it for later! Just shut your trap so we can get the hell out of here!" Jake said pushing the man towards the waiting chopper.

"So did you take out that Wesker prick?" the ex-Marine asked hopping aboard the chopper.

"No, the slimy bastard got away, but I'll get him one way or another!" Jake said as he stepped onto the chopper. Kip and Linda were both present and breathed a collective sigh of relief upon his entrance.

"Jake you made it!" Linda called out, "We thought that Wesker freak was going to do you in! We didn't want to leave you behind!"

"Nobody expected me to make it out alive, well here I am now," Jake retorted nodding towards the former Umbrella researcher and then looked over to Kip, who only gulped upon meeting his gaze. The criminal shot him a piercing gaze before turning his attention to the cockpit, where Rodriguez had a headset on and was waiting for the order to take off.

"Alright you're here man, is it safe to go now? We have to get out of here before this place blows sky high!" the pilot shouted over to him.

"Everything should be clear now," Jake said taking a seat in the co-pilot's chair and putting on a headset of his own. He was about to give the order to go when he saw the very man he had been hunting down.

Literally landing before them from the heavens above, Albert Wesker landed right in front of the chopper and collapsed to a knee, taking a breather before looking over to the chopper. Much of the flesh on his face that had been burnt away already regenerated, but there were still large splotches where exposed muscle hung out from underneath. He flashed his adversary a dirty look before he propelled himself into the air and over the nearest guard wall.

"Wesker!!!" Jake called out and threw down his headset making his way out of the cockpit.

"Hey Jake wait! Wait!" Rodriguez shouted feebly reaching for him, but the man was already gone.

In the cargo area Billy, Kip and Linda all looked up from their conversation and a collective look of confusion crossed their faces as they watched their companion make his way towards the cargo door.

"Jake, where the hell do you think you're going?" Billy asked rising from his seat, "We have to get the hell outta here; this place is going to blow!"

"Never mind me; I have some unfinished business to take care of! Just get the hell out of here and save yourselves!" the career criminal ordered throwing the door open.

"You're not coming with us? But Jake, we need you!" Linda called out almost rising from her seat, only to be stopped by her wounded leg. "We need you there to testify about what went on here!"

"I told you not to worry about me!" Jake shouted back, "Just get the hell out of here! You know more than I do so you're worth more than I'll ever be!"

"But-"

"But nothing!" the criminal snapped, "Look, it's been a fun ride, but it ends right here. I'm off to deal with Wesker personally, thank him for his 'generous offer.' You people are my last hope if I don't make it out alive. Have a nice life!"

The ex-researcher and Billy were both silenced by the criminal's comment and then he turned his attention to Kip. Stepping back onto the copter, he walked over to the investigative reporter and grabbed him by the remnants of his tie, pulling him closer.

"And one more thing," he started, "Remember, if anybody asks you anything, Jake Cavanaugh died in this explosion!"

"W-What?" Kip stammered, only to be cut off again.

"You heard me!" Jake spat, "Jake Cavanaugh DIED in this explosion!"

With the reporter dealt with, Jake turned his attention back to Rodriguez, "Get them out of here now!"

The pilot stared at him blankly before nodding solemnly and Jake stepped back onto the tarmac closing the chopper's cargo door behind him. Raising a hand to shield himself against the debris whipped up by the chopper, he watched as it lifted up into the darkening sky until it disappeared from view altogether.

Placing a hand to the grip of his katana he nodded silently remembering he had a job of his own to do.

"Time to make that bastard pay once and for all," Jake said to himself and using the strength and agility granted by the T-Virus, leapt onto a large steel crate and then launched himself over the guard wall and into the forest beyond.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gabriel Karkian sat quietly in the front passenger seat of the delivery truck as one of his men sat next to him driving. In the cargo area 17 additional survivors sat quietly, dulled by the experiences they had just endured back at the facility. The silence did not bother him at all; he was used to it whenever he wasn't hearing the sounds of warfare. However, much of his silence was due to a constant thought that ran through his mind and was slowly eating away at his psyche.

He had failed his personal mission of eliminating the very man who had killed so many of his own men, "The Red Dragon" Jake Cavanaugh.

Reaching into his compartment he pulled out the tattered piece of fabric that once belonged to a t-shirt. Emblazoned across the black surface was the elaborate design of a red dragon that had been worn by his adversary. The dragon's blank eyes and opened mouth formed a mocking grin that made his blood boil and he clenched the fabric in his gloved hand.

"Long ago I lost track of how many of my men that bastard had killed, but right now none of that matters. Whether I get out of this place or not, I will hunt that bastard down and I will kill him myself, even if I have to do it with my own bare hands."

What he would do after he accomplished his personal mission he had no idea. For sure, he would be told upon by Wesker and become a marked man by the company, if he was still alive himself that is. After that, he would constantly have to be on the run. If his survival were to be guaranteed he would have to go under the radar himself.

"I'm not going to become some homeless drunk on the streets, that's for sure," he thought to himself, remembering the fate that had befallen many of his squad mates upon their return home from the Vietnam War. "Maybe I'll go to California; Red County should still be nice this time of year."

A flash of movement broke the commander out of his reverie and he looked over to see the glint of early moonlight on a metallic object. Focusing towards the ground, despite the lack of light he was able to make out a human figure dashing amongst the trees, a figure clad entirely in black. Some of the light again reflected, this time onto the figure and Karkian's eyes went wide as he recognized the figure.

"Stop the truck!" he ordered.

"What?" the driver asked next to him dumbfounded.

"You heard me, stop the damn truck!" he said raising his voice.

The soldier knew that his commander meant business and quickly stepped on the brake, bringing the truck to a complete halt.

With the truck brought to a halt, Karkian quickly shoved the piece of tattered fabric back into his vest compartment and then opened the door, leaping down onto the dirt road beneath them.

"Sir, what are you doing?" the soldier called out, only to be met with a pistol aimed at his face.

"Don't question your orders, son! I have some personal business to take care of and chances are you won't be seeing me again!" Gabriel Karkian shouted back shoving the pistol into his holster. His posture relaxing a bit the commander looked his soldier deep in the eyes and gave a proud salute.

"It was nice serving alongside you Tapping. It was nice serving alongside all of you, but right now that is no more. I have nothing to lose except a personal mission to complete and I intend to do so no matter what. My only regret is that I couldn't have saved your comrades from that Cavanaugh bastard or even that prick Wesker, but you still have plenty of time to save yourself and everybody else in the back of that truck. I'd suggest you get moving while getting is good.

"Just remember that your commander died a proud soldier, one who never retreated and always thought of his own men before he did himself." With those words he released his saluted and the driver now called Tapping saluted him back.

"Very well, now move out soldier!" Karkian shouted and watched silently as the man shut the door behind him and resumed his drive down the dirt road.

With his personal mission at hand, the rugged commander turned his attention to the forest behind him and underwent one final weapons inspection before stepping forth into what he knew would be his final mission ever. After a life of loss and bloodshed he was anxious for an escape and now he could sense it coming. He had nothing to lose from here on out and nothing would hold him back from his final showdown with the Red Dragon.

Author's Note: After having his ass whooped twice before by that sneaky bastard Wesker, I'm sure many of you will be overjoyed to see our antihero finally get a measure of payback. Now that I've already done the whole survival horror and fast-paced action packed route, now I might take a more "Metal Gear Solid-esque" route for my next few chapters so stayed tuned to find out. Until then, this is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	52. Chapter 46: Into the Forest Beyond

Darkness Arises

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 46: Into the Forest Beyond

The last shreds of daylight were rapidly fading beyond the canopy of oak and fir trees above and he watched as the purplish-blue sky above was gradually receding to the blackness of nightfall. A cool breeze grew into a harsh, stinging wind whistling through the branches like an eerie voice beckoning him forth. The tall snake grass he waded in whipped around beneath him and from it; a blanket of red and orange leaves emerged in disturbance and coated his legs.

Jake Cavanaugh stood alone in the growing darkness armed with only his trusty sword and his wits, unafraid. Being alone in the woods at night would worry any ordinary man, but not the career criminal. A trained survivalist, he felt right at home in the dark, quiet woods, knowledgeable to its many secrets when it came to the flora and fauna that dwelled within.

"He must be close," he thought to himself, watching where he stepped to avoid snapping any twigs. Knowing Wesker, he would probably have some kind of trap set up and reinforcements nearby; at this point keeping silently was a top priority. "Too bad I don't have a piece with me right now, and then I could pop him from a distance. Then again, I did shoot him right between the eyes back in Springvale and he managed to come back from that. Hmm, I might have to decapitate him and then chop his body up into little bits and pieces and then set him ablaze."

With all the obstructions in his current location, pulling off such a feat would be next to impossible, then again killing a man like Wesker in any locale would be next to impossible.

He knew very well that those survivors whom he had helped to escape from that H.C.F. facility would think he was crazy to track down a super-powered madman like Wesker, anybody would think he was crazy to not just get on that chopper and fly away to freedom with the rest of them. Hell, even he knew what he was doing was crazy, but he knew his adversary was even crazier.

This was a man whom Jake was hunting down with an actual purpose rather than just popping him for the sake of capturing a hefty cash reward in the end. Albert Wesker was a man who had tampered with his DNA and turned him into a mutant himself, violating him and forever changing him both physically and mentally. Not only had he suffered because of Wesker, but many others had too, people like Dr. Blanton and the S.T.A.R.S. members he had read about who were betrayed by their "trusted leader" back in the Spencer Estate. He knew he wouldn't be killing Albert Wesker out of his own thirst for vengeance, he would be killing him as a favor to those who have suffered because of him and so nobody else would have to.

He looked over his shoulder for a brief moment and saw a small trail that had been cleared through the shrubs and trees, one that would lead him to a main road. It was a tempting thought to follow that path and then find his way to the road and possibly hijack some passerby's car and make his way back to civilization, but he decided against it the more he pictured Wesker's broken body lying at his feet.

The smell of pine needles drifted into his nostrils and put him more at ease as he proceeded down a narrow dirt trail dotted by broken logs and large rocks. He moved in a rigid formation with his head up and hand on the pummel of his blade, ready to draw it when needed. Aside from his martial arts training, his sense of discipline was largely self-taught and he kept it honed to a fine point, in his high-risk career letting his guard down either meant a trip to the nearest crowbar hotel or signing his own death warrant.

Stepping over another large tree branch, the criminal suddenly caught himself in mid-step and quickly backed off as some early moonlight slipped through the treetops and glinted off of a small square-shaped metallic object, one that definitely did not belong there.

"A claymore?" the criminal asked aloud, "Looks like they might've been expecting a lot more than just me," he thought to himself as he carefully stepped over the object and studied it closely. "Only one thing I can do now," he said and reached down to grab a piece of large piece of log that had been sawed off cleanly with a chainsaw.

This would be a risky move, but it could prove to be well worth the price in the end.

Taking a few steps backward, with a mighty oomph Jake hurled the log onto the mine and a loud boom shattered the tranquil silence of the forest. Sure he would soon be drawing unwanted attention, but at the same time he could possibly trick any nearby commandos into believing he had stepped into the mine and was blown to bits, plus it would also save him the risk of forgetting about it and coming back later only to step into it himself.

Ducking into some nearby bushes, he knelt down and decided to wait a few minutes before making any further progress. If any of Wesker's boys decided to show up he would have the jump on them.

From between the mighty trees the shine of halogen lights pierced the darkness and bathed the area in light, thankfully unable to penetrate the thick bushes. Laying his scabbard on the ground, the criminal slowly slid the blade out to avoid making noise, never taking his eyes off the two commandos as they searched the area for any remnants for a confirmed kill.

Jake watched their movements closely as the two black-clad figures skulked about the trail, their bright red goggles of their gasmasks being the only things that kept them from completely blending in with the shadows. Pointing their rifles at anything that moved they carefully brushed vines aside in their search for human remains and used their boots to overturn anything they felt remotely resembled a severed limb, which would turn out to be a simple tree branch and nothing else.

"Find anything?" one of the troopers asked his partner, pointing his searchlight down the trail Jake had emerged from.

"Nothing!" the other commando grunted in frustration, "Must've been a damned rabbit or something. Either way, a total waste of friggin' time," he groaned kicking another branch aside.

Jake remained silent with blade drawn and watched as the second trooper kicked aside the hunk of burnt wood and began walking in his direction. "Yes, come to me shithead," he thought to himself and raised the blade.

The commando shined his rifle's light on the cluster of bushes that stood before him, thinking that maybe a limb had been blown in this direction. With a dangerous criminal on the loose he knew he could leave no stone unturned. Cautiously he began poking the muzzle of his rifle into the many openings hoping to find something hidden and perhaps be rewarded with a finger at the very least. A rustle soon followed and a bright glint blinded the man, causing him to cry out in surprise. He would never know what hit him in the end.

"Huh? Muldoon is that you?" the other commando asked whirling around with his rifle raised.

Training his light on his teammate, he turned to see Muldoon standing there…with his head sliced clean from his shoulders!

Letting out a frightened gasp the other commando attempted to turn and run, but was restrained by a hand being placed atop his head and a large blade being placed to his throat.

Jake had managed to catch the first commando by surprise by refracting the light from his rifle onto his blade and blinding the man, leaping up and decapitating him. Using his superior speed and agility, he managed to back flip through the air and land behind the man's partner before he could fully react. Now he stood with the man at his mercy, blade to his throat.

"Start talking shitbag!" he hissed into the man's ear, "Where's Wesker? Where is he?" He placed his blade to the man's throat and was just inches from slicing him wide open.

"I-I-I d-don't know!" the commando stammered, looking down to the blade beneath him and wetting himself right on the spot.

"Bullshit! You work for him asshole, now tell me where the hell he is!" Jake growled and pressed the blade hard enough to cut his suit's material and draw blood underneath.

The cocking of a rifle sounded from behind and Jake quickly spun his hostage around, the man's stomach erupting in a crimson mist as a volley of hot lead was fired into him by his unwitting colleagues.

"Oh shit!" another commando called out as he had accidentally killed one of his own colleagues. Jake saw that three additional commandos had now made their presence felt and were opening up on him with everything they had.

The career criminal ducked under a flurry of rounds fired in his direction and was nearly blinded by the sawdust and wood chips that fell from above. Jake waved his arm wildly above him to protect his eyes and knelt down behind a tree pelted continuously with bullets. It was now him, armed with only a sword, against three men armed with assault rifles and he knew their gunfire would attract the attention of their comrades so he would have to act fast.

A tall oak tree stood across from him and he instantly got an idea for something he had only seen attempted in the movies. Rising back to his feet, Jake pulled out his blade and deflected several bullets that were fired in his direction and then leapt into the air, touching his foot against the tree's surface and propelling himself at the first commando he saw. With his blade extended he flew past the trooper and a wet slash followed, a second later the man's upper torso was separated from his legs.

The other two commandos said nothing and continued firing wildly at him, their fingers never leaving their triggers. Twirling his sword the criminal deflected more bullets fired in his direction and knelt down low, bringing his sword up and slicing one of the commando's rifle in half.

Falling flat on his butt, the man attempted to call out for his friend, but was silenced as Jake swung his blade across the man's chest, deep enough to cut through his vest and into his skin.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" the last commando shouted as he trained his rifle on his target, only to be met by a click indicating he was out of ammo and had no time to reload.

With the survivor at his mercy, Jake brought his foot up and kicked the man backwards into the nearest tree and placed the tip of the sword against his throat before he could entertain any thoughts of fleeing.

Tense silence followed and he listened to the commando's breathing hasten, almost to the point of fogging up the goggles. Despite wearing a gasmask, he could tell the man was looking him directly in the eyes and judging by his labored breaths, he was in fear for his life. He pulled the blade back slightly and allowed the man to lower his head a little so he could stare at the blood which drenched the surface, the blood of his comrades. His too would soon follow if he didn't comply.

"Alright asshole, listen up!" Jake spat menacingly, "One of your buddies just died because he refused to give me what I wanted and unless you wish to end up like him, I'd suggest you start talking when I ask you to. Comprende?"

The commando's breathing slowly a little and it took him a few seconds before he slowly nodded.

"Good," the criminal replied and again placed his blade to the man's throat, "Where's Wesker?"

Again it took some time before the commando replied and he carefully chose his words. "Someplace…called Lookout Point," the man slowly spoke, "A private extraction zone…he's going to get the hell outta here."

"Where is it and how far?" Jake demanded, the furrowing of his brow indicating he would kill him if driven over the edge.

"It's north! North of here! You'll have to keep following this trail to get there. It's not too hard to find, just follow this dirt trail, no deviating from the path. You'll know you're there when you see it, trust me! I don't know when he's leaving, but it might be soon!" the man finished.

Drawing his blade back, he watched the man's posture slacken and let him breathe a deep sigh of relief. "Sayonara!" he shouted before leaping into the air and performed a spinning heel kick that sent the man flying into the bushes he had previously hid in. Whether or not the man had survived, Jake paid no heed as he scooped up an undamaged M4A1 and jammed ten clips of ammo into the numerous pockets on his uniform. Having lost his SOCOM back at the facility, he picked up the now unconscious commando's sidearm and took five additional clips for that gun before continuing his journey.

Jake continued down the trail with his sword drawn; only looking to use the rifle whenever he would have to engage a pack of soldiers who had spotted him. Thanks to his recent encounter with the commandos he now paid greater attention to the darkened woods surrounding him and remained careful not to step on any twigs that would alert them to his presence. He also kept his rifle's flashlight attachment turned off to avoid unwanted attention, after all that was one of the major factors that would lead to the deaths of those commandos back there.

These woods didn't seem as threatening to him compared to those of Raccoon City. He had heard all about the monster attacks in the Arklay Mountains region that would eventually lead up to the massacre in the mountain city, attacks carried out by freaks of nature. Here in these woods he still had to deal with the threat of human commandos employed by the merciless Albert Wesker, adversaries who could actually think and work together to take him down.

"They also die a lot easier," Jake thought confidently approaching a turn in the trail. He had come this far thanks to his survival and combative skills, the virus in his system would make him even harder to kill.

"And so would they," the criminal thought staring down at his hand again, knowing of the flames he could now create with just a mere thought. It was a curse bestowed upon him by Wesker, but at the same time it had also proven to be a gift. Deep down he knew that if it wasn't for those flames and his accelerated healing abilities, he would have died back in that facility.

A rustle in the bushes snapped the criminal out of his thoughts, prompting him to place his hand on his sword's handle again and stand at the ready. "Whatever it is, it sounds too small to be one of those goons. I just hope there aren't any mutated freaks running around in this forest too."

Standing cautiously he stepped towards the bush and his foot brushed against an abandoned travel pack. Keeping his eyes trained on the bushes, he knelt down and snatched the bag up. Taking another step forward he whispered to his unseen would-be attacker.

"Come on out, whatever the hell you are."

Pulling out his sword he sliced away at the bush, sending clusters of leaves and branches flying away, but seeing nothing. Hearing it coming from closer to the ground, he swung a little lower and kept cutting away until a distinct rattle rang through the air.

Shooting out of the very bottom of the bush, a rattlesnake leapt out and tried to bite down on his sword thinking it was an attacker.

The snake did not scare Jake at all and he only smirked lowering the bag. "That's right, come to me!" he whispered loudly and began prodding it with a stick he had picked up from nearby. He continued to jab mercilessly until the snake had enough and lunged at him, and right into the travel bag as the criminal moved it to the side and zipped it up behind him.

"You could come in handy later, you stupid scaly shit," the criminal thought shaking the bag and listening to the trapped snake try to escape. He slung the bag over his shoulder and continued forth, determined that he would let no further distractions keep him from reaching Wesker.

Moving further down the trail he happened across a bush where several bright red berries grew and suddenly felt his mouth water. It had been more than a day since he had eaten anything and just the sight of a small blessing in the middle of nature nearly made him bowl over with fatigue. Looking around carefully, he reached over and scooped a handful of berries and jammed them into his mouth, chomping them down quickly. If the berries were poisonous or not, it didn't matter to him as the virus in his system would probably make him immune to those as well.

"Not exactly a five course meal, but it'll have to do for now," Jake thought to himself reaching for another handful of berries.

Enjoying his brief meal, everything would suddenly turn white and the cocking of another gun followed.

"Damn it Jake, you did it again," the criminal thought to himself as he heard a commando shout "Contact!" into his radio and open fire.

Jake quickly dropped to the ground and raised his hand, launching a fireball in the man's direction and melting the end of his assault rifle. Gasping in horror, but quickly regaining his senses the commando reached for his sidearm, only to be downed by the much quicker criminal who had drawn his own rifle and fired a volley of armor-piercing rounds into him.

"So much for a damned meal," the criminal scolded himself and looked up to the trees above him. Hundreds of large trees stood tall above him and the despite the lack of leaves, the darkness alone would help render him invisible to the naked eye. The sound of footsteps in the distance helped him make his decision much quicker and with a climbing speed he hadn't possessed before, he managed to scale the closest tree and reach the top in around ten seconds.

"Oh God, what happened to him now?" another commando called out as his light shined onto the body of another colleague of his. The man wasn't alone, accompanied by three other fellow troopers all clad in their black uniforms, living shadows they were.

"He must be nearby, after hearing everything we have about him, you'd think he'd be smarter than to pull a rookie mistake like that," another commando remarked.

Inspecting the body of his fellow trooper, the leader of the pack suddenly froze as he picked up a heat trail, one that led up to the trees above him.

Jake steadied his aim and fired down upon the four commandos, blazing until he managed to drop each of them with eventual face shots. "Rookie mistake indeed, but also done on purpose," he remarked and shouldered his rifle.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The popping of automatic echoed from the distance, muting out the ghostly whistle of the nighttime breeze around him.

"He's not too far away," Karkian told himself as he trudged through the darkened woods searching for the dirt path he had memorized from years ago. The flashlight on his rifle cut a broad swath of light through the gloom and forced an owl to fly from its nightly perch. "Can't be too far," he thought before letting out a loud "Ha!"

At last he had found the dirt path and began running along it at full speed determined to catch his target if it was the last thing he did. The young man had escaped him before and he was determined to have his head if it was the last thing he did. Even if he had to die trying, he would still confront that bastard and do what he could to make him pay.

"You're damn right I will Cavanaugh," he thought, "My men's deaths will not be in vain. I will find your sorry ass even if I have to track you down to the gates of Hell myself."

The commander continued running at full pace until his foot connected with a hard object and caused him to stumble, nearly falling face down into the dirt beneath him. Following the source of his near fall, his eyes followed a crimson trail until they were led to the severed head of one of his own troopers, the dead man's glowing red goggles staring daggers into him.

Whirling around, the grizzled commander was met by the sight of four dead men lying along the trail, one of whom had his head severed from the rest of his body, another whose stomach had been ripped apart by automatic fire, a third who had been cleanly disemboweled and the fourth one who had been slashed across his chest by a sharp blade.

"Cavanaugh…" he rasped, knowing the young criminal could be the only man responsible for such a massacre.

A low moan broke the commander from his thoughts and he shifted his light towards a set of tall bushes, where a lone commando stepped out from the darkness with one hand raised in surrender and the other gripped tightly against his face.

"D-Don't shoot man!" the figure called out as he stepped into the light. The man had removed his mask, revealing a youthful visage beneath covered in several cuts on the right side of his face.

Once the young man finally saw who was pointing the rifle at him, he suddenly tensed up and fell into a rigid posture saluting his commanding officer. "Oh…C-C-Commander Karkian…it's you!" he stammered, a look of fright and shame in his green eyes.

Karkian recognized the man as rookie operative Dean Chisholm, a man of twenty-four years, a baby by H.C.F. standards, who had joined the company not even five months ago and was already assigned to the high-risk Verdant Mountain facility, something that made the commander closely question his superiors. Here he stood now though, for some reason spared by the vicious criminal.

"Chisholm, what the hell?" Karkian asked, "Did Cavanaugh do this to you?"

The private nodded sheepishly, "Yeah, he was here. He killed the others, I tried to stop him!" he blurted out but was silenced by the Commander raising his hand.

"No need to explain kid, I know what's up," Karkian cut in, "He's after Wesker."

Chisholm nodded wordlessly and rubbed the back of his head just beneath his buzz cut.

"Well it's too late for you to do anything now, soldier. Everything here is lost and as much as I hate to say it, it's not entirely that Cavanaugh punk's fault," Karkian sighed heavily and looked towards his subordinate, "As far as I'm concerned, you've got nothing left here to fight for. Now do yourself a favor and get the hell out of here. Get your ass back to civilization and leave this company, you've got nothing more to gain for all I care."

"But sir…" the young private attempted to cut in.

"But nothing kid!" the Commander shouted back, "You have your order, now get out of here and save yourself!"

Pvt. Dean Chisholm nodded and gave a quivering salute before walking past his commanding officer, but not before turning around one last time. "What about you, sir? What will you do?"

Karkian breathed heavily before making his reply, "I have my own personal mission to accomplish, one that only I can do alone. Frankly, I don't know if you're ever going to see me again and I'm sure you probably don't want to after all the hell I put you and your boys through. Don't ask what it's about because it's a matter you don't need to become caught up in and end up like countless other colleagues of yours. Now, is that clear?"

"Sir, yes sir," Chisholm replied weakly.

"Very well, now move along!" Karkian ordered and continued his march down the trail, not needing to turn back to know that his order was being followed as the young private made his way out of the woods and back to the road that would take him to civilization.

Gabriel Karkian knew that he himself could have taken the similar path and escaped from the woods himself, but his pride as a soldier wouldn't allow it. He had never been one to abort a mission and now wasn't the time to start. There was nothing more left for him in the world except this one final objective and then his life of war would come to an end.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Leaping from the hollow log like a snake in the grass, Jake brought his blade up and swiftly decapitated the commando who had previously been trailing him before he went to hide.

The kill was quick and silent, and at this point the wind was blowing hard enough to where he doubted any other troopers would have heard the thud of the body striking the earth.

Ripping off a tattered piece of the fallen soldier's uniform, Jake wiped the blood from his blade and looked around before dragging the headless body and hiding it within the log. Seeing the severed head lying nearby, he kicked it into a nearby patch of snake grass and saw a sudden drop off point to his left, kneeling down he crawled on his stomach to the ledge spying for more threats.

A lone trooper stood in a patch of blackened soil surrounded by patches of regular grass and overgrown weeds, guarding the entrance to a cave behind him. Hasty breathing could be heard indicating his edginess and his gun shook in his hands. The criminal knew he was going to have fun with this guy and reached for the pack which contained the rattlesnake he had trapped earlier.

"Have fun," he whispered unzipping the pouch and dropped the snake onto the unsuspecting commando.

The commando jumped as soon as the snake fell onto him and he thrashed his arms wildly trying to get it off. Panicked screams mixed with the snake's rattle as the serpent coiled around the man's arm and he continued the flail wildly to get it off. Finally gathering up some senses, the man reached over and ripped the snake off tossing it to the ground. A threatening rattle rang out as the snake stood on the ground ready to strike, but the commando aimed on the creature and began firing wildly, ripping up much of the dirt and grass surrounding the serpent before he finally struck it dead. Connecting with a fatal shot did not stop the frightened trooper and he continued firing into the dead snake until his clip ran dry, by then the snake's carcass had been ripped into several pieces.

Several pairs of footsteps cut through the tall grass surrounding the man and Jake watched quietly as eight additional commandos stepped into sight with weapons raised ready for a fight.

"Montrose what's the deal?" one of the men called out, "Did you spot the tango? Was he through here?"

The commando did not answer right away and one of his colleagues shined his light onto the mutilated remnants of the rattlesnake and the bullet holes in the soil around it.

"I think I know what he was shooting at," the man spoke, "It was just a freaking rattlesnake, a freaking snake boys!"

One by one, the commandos broke down into hysterical laughter and prodded their teammate, calling him a pussy and several other unflattering nicknames despite his continued protests.

The sight was almost comical to the career criminal, but at the same time he was getting far too antsy from sitting around doing nothing. "Fuck this stealth crap, I'm bored." he thought to himself steadying his M4A1 and pulled the trigger. A single commando fell dead with a round that traveled through one of his lenses and he collapsed with a heavy thud.

"Shit, it's him!" one of the troopers called out and began firing upward. The commandos now had their weapons drawn and began firing wildly in his direction.

Jake rolled off to the side as the bullets traveled up to the hill's ledge and began pelting pebbles and dirt into his face. The rush of battle found its way into his veins once more and he shrugged off the clumps of dirt and grass thrown onto him, raising his rifle and firing down into the spread out troops beneath him.

Another trooper was dropped by a shot between the eyes and a second would quickly fall to a succession of armor-piercing rounds that traveled from his left shoulder downward diagonally across his chest to his waist, jolting violently before he fell dead for good. The other troopers had taken cover behind overturned trees and large rocks with rifles positioned at safe angles, popping out to fire bursts every few seconds. Gunfire echoed throughout the woods and soon four additional commandos joined their still living comrades.

It was the lone criminal against ten opponents, but yet he showed no fear, but rather ease and comfort. Having survived a city teeming with thousands of the undead, this was child's play to him.

Taking cover behind a nearby boulder, Jake propped himself up and fired another volley into the troopers below, catching one with a shot to the throat that did not immediately kill him, but would leave him to slowly bleed to death. One of the man's colleagues bent down to save him, only to receive a flurry of hot lead for his efforts.

One of the commandos knelt down behind the rock formation he hid behind and pulled out a fragmentation grenade and quickly tossed it up towards the criminal.

Jake saw the metallic object being tossed in his direction and quickly leapt backwards, propelling himself into a nearby tree and running along the branches with a grace he had not possessed prior to his mutation. Bullets followed him along the larger branches and tore apart the smaller ones around him, sending large wooden chunks raining down upon his adversaries, otherwise their bullets ripped harmlessly through thin air.

Jake stared down upon the eight remaining commandos and raised his rifle, firing down upon them and taking down two more before his rifle clicked empty. Landing on the ground and taking cover behind some heavy shrubbery, he ejected the spent clip and slapped a new one in with a fluid motion. Bullets ripped through the shrubbery and sent leaves flying all over as another soldier attempted to rush him, only to be met by a hail of bullets fired into his upper torso.

"Eat it!" he heard a soldier cry out and the criminal looked up to see another hand grenade being tossed at him. With rapid fire reflexes he caught the bomb in midair and chucked it right back at the sender with the force of a baseball, striking the man in the face before it blew up and swallowed him up in a ball of flame.

The four remaining commandos formed a defensive perimeter closely surrounding each other firing in unison at the career criminal. Jake quickly responded with another protective wall of fire to melt the bullets fired upon him and raised his rifle with his free hand to drop the two commandos in the front. In the end only two of his attackers remained and both looked to each other hesitantly before looking back to him.

"You seriously think you stand a chance?" Jake asked confidently, tempting his opponents to attack him.

One of the troopers chose to stay and stand his ground, only to receive a quick volley of lead to the chest and face for his troubles. His partner attempted to run away as fast as he could, only to be cut down by a powerful fireball from the criminal.

"I knew I'd find you if I followed the trail of dead bodies, Cavanaugh!" a new voice called out from the darkness.

Whirling around with his rifle raised, the criminal laid his eyes upon an individual who was dressed exactly the same way as the other commandos, yet the way he carried himself gave away a position of higher authority, that of a man who had seen many battles in the past.

"At last we meet face to face Red Dragon, and believe me I've been waiting for this moment for quite some time," the man spoke, the rage in his voice rising to new levels.

"And who the hell are you?" Jake asked keeping his rifle raised at a steady pace, "Obviously another fool with a death wish."

The man did not reply right away and took the time to look down upon the remains of those Jake had just butchered. His breathing seemed to hasten for a few seconds as he stared upon his fallen men, only to quickly regain himself and speak again.

"I was the commander of all these men you have just slaughtered, as well as those you murdered back in Springvale and Maple."

Jake said nothing in reply and kept his rifle trained on the man, ready to fire the second he tried anything funny.

"Don't you recognize my voice Cavanaugh? Unit Commander Gabriel Karkian at your service," the man spoke and reached up to remove his gasmask. Tossing the gasmask to the ground, he revealed himself to be a Caucasian man in his late forties, yet covered in wrinkles that made him look ten to fifteen years older. Several scars decorated the man's weathered face, the most prominent being one which ran down his right eye, nearly spanning the length of his entire face. Much like the criminal himself, he had short jet black hair cut very closely to his head and icy blue eyes, eyes that had been hardened from witnessing years of brutality and bloodshed. To any distant observer, the two men probably would have been mistaken for being father and son.

"Yeah, I remember you now," Jake said slightly lowering the rifle, "So you're the creep who was making my life more difficult back in Springvale, don't know whether I should feel honored or not to meet your sorry ass."

Commander Karkian ignored his smartass comment and stared intently at him, squinting his eyes to make sure he was seeing what he suspected as a new thought popped into his mind.

"You know, now that I think about it, you look awfully familiar. The name Cavanaugh, the similar looks…you're Steve's boy aren't you?"

Jake bristled at the mention of his father's name. His father, the abusive, authoritarian ogre who made the first eighteen years of his life pure hell, even the mere mention of his name would make his blood begin to boil.

"What's it to you?" the criminal asked, unable to disguise his contempt. He was ready to pull the trigger right now just for the man bringing up such a painful subject.

Karkian chuckled at the question before replying, "Your old man and I go a long way back. We served together in Vietnam, watching each others' backs as we battle Viet Cong left and right. It was a bloody time for all, not a day went by where we weren't being shot at by those Commie freaks. Your dad saved my ass quite a few times, but believe me he could be quite the ice cold killer when the time called for it.

"Heck, I'll never forget how he would blast those dirty bastards whenever they stepped into sight, he'd even show no mercy once they surrendered," the Commander almost spoke merrily, but then his tone abruptly darkened, "just like you've done with my men. If you ask me, I'd say you inherited your killer instinct from your old man. You're a born killer, just like him."

"You shut up about him!" Jake shot back, "That bastard was nothing but an abusive drunk who made life hell for me and my family. I oughta' kill you just for mentioning his name."

Karkian said nothing and tossed his rifle to the ground along with the rest of his firearms. "You're damn right somebody is going to die, kid. This is going to be the end of the line, only one of us walks away."

Jake looked at the unarmed man who had now entered a fighting stance and was ready for a literal fight to the death. For the sake of honor, he knew it wouldn't be right to fight an unarmed man with his assault rifle and tossed it to the ground, followed by his SOCOM and his blade.

"Fine, I don't need my guns or my powers, I can kill you with my own bare hands if I have to," the criminal said touching his bare fists together and raising them in front of him.

"That a boy, now we will fight like true warriors, hand-to-hand like our barbarian ancestors."

"Heh, for a hardened veteran you sure talk a lot!" Jake taunted circling his opponent.

The two men circled each other for several seconds just staring each other directly in the eyes. Knowing this would be the final fight for one of them, they wanted to go all out.

Jake started things out with a left jab that Karkian easily dodged and followed with a roundhouse kick he swayed underneath to avoid. The veteran commando attempted a right hook that the criminal would bring his left forearm up to deflect. With his opponent temporarily distracted, the commander then brought his knee up and drove it into his opponent's kidney, causing the younger man to wince slightly.

"I see that virus Wesker injected into you hasn't rendered you entirely invincible," Karkian spoke before attempting a series of follow up strikes that were either blocked or dodged. Ducking low, the commander attempted a sweep that Jake would easily jump over and respond with a snap kick to the face, knocking him flat on his back.

Grunting loudly, the grizzled commander quickly shrugged it off and kipped back up to his feet. Resuming his fighting stance, he was met by a series of quick and powerful hooks from his opponent whom he himself would block and dodge, until he managed to catch the younger man's right arm and pinned his arm behind him.

Now trapped in an attempted submission hold, Jake felt his right arm stretched out and his left leg buckle as his foot was kicked out from underneath him. His head whipped forth violently as his opponent head butted him from behind and struck him in the back repeatedly with clubbing forearm blows. The blows rained on him at a rapid pace and he had lost track of how many he had taken by the time his opponent drove his boot into his upper back, sending him facedown into the dirt and leaves.

With the younger man at his mercy, Karkian clamped down on the man's leg and bent it to the side, applying pressure from his own leg before kneeling down and wrapping his arm around the man's throat and pulling backward in a painful submission hold.

"Not so tough now, are ya' kid?" the Commander taunted as he squeezed tighter around the man's neck and continued to yank back on him.

Jake was gagging violently as his breathing was restricted by the heavy grip placed around his throat. By now he was fighting blindly to survive and reached out to grab anything he could. It was his tremendous willpower that kept him able to fight back in such a situation and he was ready to improvise anything he could for an escape. Reaching in front of him, he finally managed to clamp down on a handful of dirt and began throwing it over his shoulder and would follow up with more handfuls until the grip was finally released.

Heavy gasps escaped from the criminal as he was finally released and struggled to crawl forth and stumble back to his feet. He listened to the commander's frustrated grunts and turned to find he had gotten several large clumps in the man's eyes that he was fighting to get out.

Not waiting to give the man an inch, he rushed forth and delivered a powerful haymaker that snapped the man's head backward and sent him falling flat onto his back, just inches away from where one of his deceased subordinates lay. Blood now trickled from the man's nose like a leaky faucet and he blinked his eyes open, a look of true rage within. The veteran said nothing and rose back to his feet ready for more like a true warrior.

The criminal rushed at his opponent and attempted a roundhouse kick, which was caught easily by the commander, seeing an opportunity, he leapt up to perform an enzuigiri kick, which the man would also duck under and attempt to take him down for another submission hold. Jake knew what his opponent would probably have planned and used his leg strength to flip the man over him.

With a grace he didn't expect the man to have, he watched as Karkian landed on his feet and sunk down to a knee. Taking no time to rest, the commander attempted a football tackle, which he would sidestep at the last second.

"Not bad, just what I'd expect from the son of "Slayer" Steve Cavanaugh!" Karkian spoke and charged head on at Jake, catching him with a collar and elbow tie-up that was common in professional wrestling. The two men went back and forth in a test of strength, one that the Commander would attempt to turn in his favor with several knees to each side of his opponent.

Jake suppressed grunts of pain as the knees struck his sides, but it was the burning sensation he felt from the aforementioned Hellfire Virus that would prevent him from feeling the serious pain that would have caused a normal man to submit. The Commander attempted to lift him into the air, but Jake used his height advantage to stomp on the man's foot and deliver a few knees of his own. With his opponent weakened, the criminal grabbed the man in a bear hug and followed with a belly-to-belly suplex that buried his opponent into the ground.

Raising his foot high above his head, Jake attempted an axe kick on his downed opponent, but the man would roll out of the way just as his foot struck the ground. Leaving a small crater where he connected, his foot was quickly snatched up by the Commander, who now clamped on his leg attempting to take him down with an ankle lock. The criminal could feel the man's effort and began shaking his leg violently to get the man off, acting out of desperation, he leapt into the air and planted his boot into the middle of the commander's forehead forcing him to release his grip and sending the criminal himself flying backward.

Once again, Jake managed to catch himself and fell into a backwards roll, feeling winded for the first time during the fight. Now he knew why his opponent was the unit commander of H.C.F. ground forces and would not underestimated his abilities at all.

Grunting loudly, Jake leapt into the air and aimed a flying kick directed at the Commander's face. As he expected, his foot connected with the man's crossed arms he had brought up to deflect the move, but he would use that to his advantage as he rebounded from the man's arms and extended his foot to perform a somersault kick that connected with the man's chin, sending him flying through the air.

With his opponent on his back again, Jake mounted the fallen commander and began punching away at him with the fury of a man possessed, driving fist after fist into the grizzled man's scarred face until he was a blackened mess. Finally gaining the upper hand in the fight, the career criminal stood up and grabbed the man from underneath his legs and began to spin around until he had enough and released Karkian, sending him flying through the air and landing on a hard surface.

Pain shot up and down Gabriel Karkian's legs and back as he lay on the jagged rock surface he had landed upon. Coughing hoarsely, he could feel the warm, sticky sensation of fresh blood trickling from the side of his mouth and feel it covering the back of his head. A loud crack as he hit the ground told him right away that one of his ribs had been broken, followed by a nagging pain in the side of his face telling he had probably broken a cheekbone as well.

Still, it would take more than a few broken bones to keep the battle-hardened commander down and with an agonizing effort; Gabriel had risen back to his feet to stare his adversary in the eye.

"You're going to have to do better than that…rookie!" Karkian spat from behind a bloody smile.

Jake nodded in reply, "Always up for the challenge."

The two combatants approached each other once again and traded blows back and forth, the criminal forced back a few steps as he took several punches and kicks for his troubles, but he would ultimately rebound with a powerful uppercut, followed by a spinning backhand and another snap kick. Delivering a kick to his opponent's lower leg, Jake followed with a roundhouse kick, spinning heel kick and then another foot sweep that took the man down.

"I've gotta finish this guy off fast before Wesker can escape!" the criminal thought to himself before performing an elbow drop onto the fallen commander's chest.

"There's more where that came fr…Ahh!" Jake gasped in pain as a blade was suddenly embedded in his shoulder, a special spring-loaded shooting knife the Commander had kept concealed up his sleeve.

Having learned his share of tricks in the brutal, steamy jungles of Vietnam, Karkian had come prepared and kept another spring-loaded knife concealed in his opposite sleeve, pulling it out he launched his other knife into the right thigh of his opponent.

Staggering back to his feet, the grizzled commander pulled a combat knife out of his shoulder holster and went into his close quarters combat stance, "Wesker was right about you when he said you're quite the persistent one. Your death will not be entirely in vain!"

Karkian swung the blade towards his struggling opponent and caught him across the lower abdomen with a deep diagonal slash and then stabbed the blade into his opponent's exposed side. The commander flipped the blade into a different position to attempt a downward strike, but missed as he was again sidestepped.

Jake could feel the blood pouring out of his wounds as he attempted to keep a safe distance. He knew his accelerated healing would kick in eventually, but would this man be too quick for it to kick in? The blade swiped through the air again and he barely managed to dodge a strike aimed at his throat and then leapt to the side to avoid another strike that would have opened his side wound even further.

"You shouldn't have fucked with my men, boy!" Karkian spat while trying to stab his opponent. Somehow with the deep slashes and blood loss he had inflicted, the younger man still managed to evade his attacks. Quickening his pace even further, he managed to inflict an additional wound to his opponent's shoulder and then drew his blade across the man's arm as he attempted a block, leaving a clean line that reached from his elbow to his wrist.

A warm sensation traveled up and down the criminal's arm as the blade made contact with his skin and a trail of blood shot out, discoloring the mud and grass beneath him. Whenever his blood was drawn, it was always a signal of motivation, telling him that he needed to step up his game and end things quickly, or face the end himself.

Spinning his body around to avoid a direct stab from the cantankerous Commander, Jake brought his foot up to perform a spinning back kick that caught the man hard in his upper back and knocking the blade from his opponent's hands, the flying knife embedding itself in a nearby fir.

With the man still staggering from the blow, he then snuck up behind his opponent and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Looks like all those years of watching wrestling is going to pay off right now," Jake thought to himself as he fell backwards with his opponent above him and slammed him into the ground, performing a German Suplex. Pulling himself back to his feet, he held his opponent in a sleeper hold to weaken him before executing another wrestling toss that took the man to the ground. On top of his opponent again, the criminal grabbed a hold of the man's ankle and clamped down, twisting until the loud pop of a bone breaking echoed throughout the darkened woods.

Pain traveled through Commander Karkian's leg as his ankle was snapped, but he would not allow himself to cry out in pain. He had been through much worse and he would not give his opponent the satisfaction of letting him know he was hurt, even if he would lose the fight. Struggling back to his one good leg, he ignored the pain and stood tall like the proud soldier he was, regardless of whether he was winning or losing.

Jake charged at his opponent again with his arm extended going for a power punch aimed at the man's chin. The commander saw him coming from a mile away and reached out to grab his arm, only for the crafty criminal to sway to the left and leap around behind the man, pulling his right arm behind his back and wrenching down on it, snapping it in three places.

"Now it's really time to end this," the criminal thought to himself eschewing the rules of honorable hand-to-hand combat and summoning his powerful flames. "That bastard pulled a knife on me so I'd say this is the perfect payback," he thought to himself as the flames around his hands grew. On the ground before him, Commander Karkian still tried getting back to his feet despite his injuries wanting to fight him. He had to admit, the man had guts, but it was his guts that had gotten him into this situation right now when he could have easily escaped and survived to live another day.

The flames had now grown larger to the point they were almost burning the criminal's clothing and he touched his hands together to form one gigantic ball of fire, one that was exactly the size of a tractor tire. It was getting to the point where he wouldn't be able to hold it much longer, but he did because he wanted his opponent to see it before he died. By now Karkian had pulled himself back to his feet and he looked up to see the large ball of flame that awaited him.

"Taste the flames of my vengeance!" Jake's war cry echoed throughout the woods as he launched the gigantic fireball towards his opponent.

Despite the size of the projectile, it traveled with the speed of a bullet and it struck Gabriel Karkian head on like a freight train, the only thing he felt was a great warmth before he was blinded by the reddish-orange light.

Jake watched passively as his great fireball struck the Commander at full force, enveloping his body in flames and sending him flying backwards into a great tree, the snapping of his spinal cord ringing out as he made contact. He knew the man would not be getting back up from that and had emerged victorious in the end. The flames quickly fizzled out on the dying commander and it was then that the criminal had finally managed to get a closer look at his fallen adversary.

Lying slumped against the tree now unable to move his legs, Karkian's chest fell rapidly as he breathed in ragged, irregular gasps choking on the dust and ash that had entered his lungs. His heavy body armor had protected most of his body from the flames, but there were still large portions where the flames had eaten through, exposing his skin in shades of angry red or deep black from the massive burns that had eaten through. A face hardened by years of battle had now become a gruesome sight; much of his skin was eaten away by the flames, exposing large patches of red underneath outlined by ash and other miscellaneous puss gushing out, making him look like a zombie himself.

Ragged gasps soon turned into a violent coughing fit and the dying Commander's head was thrown back against the tree in convulsion for several seconds. When it seemed that his head was about to fall limply to the side, he suddenly caught himself and stared back to his victorious opponent.

The two men looked each other in the eye and held a silent stare down that would be broken by a bitter chuckle from the older man.

"Heh…heh…as much as I hate to say it…it looks like you…won this round…kid…" Karkian heaved coughing out a rivulet of blood and nearly choking on it before spitting it all out. "Bet your old man…would have…been proud of you…"

Jake took a deep breath in an attempt to control himself, "My old man was never proud of anything I did, don't even get me started on that. He might have been a comrade-in-arms to you, but to me and my family, he was nothing more than a drunken fiend, one who made my life miserable and not just mine, but my own family's. He murdered my own mother and tried to pin it all on me, saying that I drove him to do it. Next thing I know, he tried to kill me and I had to fight him for my very life. I shot him dead; yes I murdered my own father."

Karkian breathed heavily before he chuckled again, "Heh…never thought…an ice cold killer…like him…would be done in…by his own son…of all people!"

"Believe it," Jake retorted, "After what he did, it's not like I didn't give him something he didn't deserve."

The mention of his former squad mate's fate brought reflections on his time in the Vietnam War once again, particularly during an excursion down the Mekong River. A young Gabriel Karkian and his unit had been in the midst of a brutal gunboat battle when he had taken a round through the shoulder and was about to fall into the river below, until he was pulled to safety by the young Staff Sergeant Steven Cavanaugh.

He could hardly believe that here he lie now, done in by the son of his very own savior.

"Well…what can I say now? You won…you're obviously out to get that Wesker bastard," Karkian hissed venomously at the mention of his former employer's name. "As much as I hate you…for what you did…to my men…I hate him…even more…for the way he…put my men in danger…treating them…like pawns!

"He has been through here…I know where he might…be heading for…Lookout Point! An old observatory…not far from here! Just stay on this path…and you'll find it…right away! I don't care about him anymore…just stop that asshole…and make him pay!"

Jake nodded and looked away, "Very well then. I plan on seeing to it that freak doesn't make it out of these woods alive, you can count on that."

Given the burns covering his face, Gabriel Karkian smiled through the excruciating pain at the thought of Wesker's demise. Nobody treated his men like pawns, nobody. Payback was going to be dealt and if he couldn't inflict it himself, who better than the man who had the strength to beat him in the first place?

"Heh…yeah, show that bastard!" he laughed and unclipped a grenade that had been on his utility belt. "My life has been one of war…one of constant carnage and bloodshed…but now I make my escape…once and for all.

"I really should thank you Cavanaugh…at least I got to die…a soldier's death with you…one in the heat of battle…not like some old man…in a hospital bed."

"It was my honor," the criminal spoke and continued along the trail he had been on, the one that would lead him to Lookout Point and to his adversary.

Walking down the trail towards his impending battle, the explosion of Gabriel Karkian's grenade sounded in the darkness.

The proud commander was no more.

Author's Note: I know I said I was going to make this chapter more "Metal Gear-ish" and to explain what I meant, the stealth tactics mixed with the run-and-gun action, some of the tactics used (i.e. dropping the snake on the commando) were inspired by Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater. I decided to throw those elements in and the forest setting was inspired by that game too. Also, Commander Karkian's ending monologue is much like the end of an MGS boss battle. Believe me, in those games when a boss dies, they don't just fall over and croak, they always have to give some long-winded speech before they finally kick the bucket, so that's another "Metal Gear-esque" feature in my chapter. Well Karkian is out of the way now and now it's time for the final showdown with Wesker…can you smell the tension in the air? I can! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	53. Chapter 47:The Hunted Becomes the Hunter

Darkness Arises

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 47: The Hunted Becomes the Hunter

For now, all was quiet in the immediate area surrounding Lookout Point. How much longer this stillness would last was unknown.

"We are en route to your current location as we speak," the pilot's voice crackled over the radio, "Estimated arrival time is fifteen minutes."

"You don't have fifteen minutes you insolent buffoon!" Wesker growled into the transceiver, "By now the base's explosion would have been heard in the nearby counties and the authorities will be getting suspicious. You have to get here as soon as you can, now double time it!"

"Understood sir, over and out," the pilot replied and the line went dead.

Albert Wesker threw the transceiver down onto the control panel and focused his attention out the nearby window. The darkness of the forest beneath him was broken by the halogen lanterns placed strategically by his men, who at the moment were guarding the abandoned observatory, all anxiously waiting to escape themselves.

The authorities were not the only concern of Wesker's at the moment. Jake Cavanaugh, the once lowly career criminal whom he believed he could craft into one of his super soldiers, was still on the loose and probably on the hunt as he stood there.

No, he was on the hunt and he didn't want to admit it, but perhaps it was some kind of childish delusion that was the reason he was still out and about, hunting him down.

Wesker took his eyes away from the window and looked around the small control room he was presently in. Lookout Point was originally established as a private observatory over a century ago and its original founder had lived in a cabin located not too far away in the privacy of the endless green of the forest. However, ten years ago with the official founding of H.C.F., the company had purchased the towering structure along with a former ammunition plant located at the very top of Verdant Mountain.

Now, here the H.C.F. supervisor stood pacing back and forth with his fist clenched so tightly his bones threatened to pop out through his flesh clasped, trapped in deep thought. He was no longer the cool, collected, untouchable superhuman he once thought he was. For the first time in a long time, he was actually feeling nervous and deep down fearful for his own mortality.

Looking down he stared at where his right hand should be. A pointed stump was all that remained from beneath the elbow on his right arm, chopped off by the career criminal's blade. Thanks to his abilities, the limb would gradually regenerate, but it would take up to eighteen hours for a new arm to form. He didn't have eighteen hours to spare.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Jake Cavanaugh was captured and already subjected to the first phase of his plan, but that meddlesome Lambert fool had interfered and set him free. He truly believed he had all of his employees under his thumb, using his advanced powers as a scare tactic to dissuade any thoughts of rebellion, but yet one frail old scientist somehow found the courage to do so and in the process cause this predicament.

"Because of that damned fool this is happening," the supervisor mentally cursed the deceased researcher. If he would have been a good little subservient worker, then Cavanaugh would have become the first in an army of super soldiers.

As much as he hated to say it, perhaps maybe now he had been wrong for wanting to create an army of super soldiers and take over the world. Many before him had criticized his utopian vision, dismissing him as a lunatic and laughing in his face. Those insults had easily been shrugged off by the supervisor, usually followed by their own murder, never did he thought he would find himself looking like the fool they tried making him out to be.

Then there was his associate Karkian, a proud soldier who had constantly lashed out at him for placing his men in harm's way and furthermore criticizing the way he referred to them as "expendable assets." He had been a fearless warrior in the heat of battle, but yet it was his headstrong and overly caring nature for his pitiful men that had made him weak in the supervisor's eyes, perhaps if he were still around he could have been of some help.

"No, don't think like that," the voice within told him, "Karkian is an emotional fool and his men were nothing more than cannon fodder. They would still have been worthless if they were still around, would've been nothing but dead weight. It was a good thing that fool left me when he did."

Wesker stared out into the darkened woods before him watching the shadows closely for any rapid movements, knowing his pursuer had to be close. Beneath him his men stood in the biting autumn wind with weapons at the ready, standing uneasily as they knew a super-powered killer was lurking in the darkness around them ready to strike at random. By now, he could sense that many of them or any at all, probably wouldn't be coming back alive by the end of the night.

Then again, even if he did manage to eliminate his adversary he would still have to face an angry board of directors afterwards, who would no doubt be angered over the loss of one of their top executives, the loss of a multi-million dollar facility, the loss of countless operatives and the unwanted attention they would likely attract from the media and the authorities.

Thinking of the executive board, the supervisor looked down to his remaining hand again. Sure his enhanced strength would enable him to kill each and every one of them, but the thoughts were quickly swept from his mind as he again remembered his clash with Cavanaugh. Once again he was reminded of his vulnerability.

"Damn them," Wesker grunted aloud. Knowing of his shady past he wouldn't doubt at all that they had probably synthesized a vaccine to the virus in his system, one that would revert him into the impotent human he once was. It was a form of blackmail they would use to ensure his loyalty, a practice he had become all too familiar with during his time with Umbrella.

The clock was ticking and he knew something had to be done and fast, but yet the reality tugged away at his thoughts informing him that another problem had to be dealt with first.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In the darkness of the night, Jake Cavanaugh continued his personal hunt for his elusive adversary.

Having taken to the safety of the mostly bare treetops above the shadowy trail, the criminal leapt from branch to branch looking like yet another shadow in the night. Looking down to the trail below he noticed it appeared to be unguarded, but also knew how slimy someone like Wesker was and figured he would probably have some traps set up.

"They always do in the movies," Jake told himself as he remembered a jungle combat movie based on Vietnam he had seen in the theaters with his friends years ago.

Leaping from one large branch he propelled himself towards the nearest tree and onto a deceptively wide bough, only to have it snap under the pressure of his weight. Before he could even fall backwards, the criminal used his newly heightened agility to reach out for a lower limb and spin himself a few more times before launching himself back into the air, operating with the grace of Spiderman.

It was from his greater height that he had finally managed to get a good view of what he assumed to be Lookout Point, a well preserved granite tower standing prominently in a clearing ahead, towering above the sea of trees it stood amongst.

Jake was forced to suppress a surge of anger as he again thought of Wesker and how the arrogant supervisor was probably there waiting for him right now. Taking notice of several bright beams rising upward he surmised that was where the rest of the commandos had to be. Jumping down from the tree he landed swiftly, but roughly in the bushes below and remained hidden for a few minutes to carefully survey his surroundings.

Peering intently there appeared to be no signs of trip wires or red laser beams, nor any freshly dug up spots to indicate claymores. "Either they're very confident or very stupid," he thought to himself as he inched forward through the brush trying to minimize his level of noise.

Tuning his ears for sounds beyond the rustling of leaves he pressed forth nearly crawling on his stomach when he was finally met with the sound of rifles being cocked and several agitated voices.

"What the hell are we doing waiting around for that freak?" one voice asked to an unseen colleague, "I say we oughta' just jump on the chopper and get the hell out of here. Screw waiting for that Cavanaugh chump!"

"Tell me about it," the other replied, "We're just asking for trouble sitting around here, might as well paint some targets on our chests while we're at it."

"Don't tell me you ladies are actually afraid of that punk!" a gruffer voice spoke up, "There's no way he should be able to cut his way through here right now with all the hardware we're packing!"

"But didn't you see what he did back at the base?"

"But nothing! Jeez you always were a pussy Danvers!" the third trooper sighed.

Poking his head slightly above the brush Jake managed to make out a few dark-clad forms pacing back and forth, including one who looked like he was carrying a gas tank on his back.

"Damn right I'm out here," Jake muttered to himself raising the M4A1 and taking aim at the man with the tank on his back. "I'm the ghost in the darkness, the monster under your bed and right now, the reaper of life!"

Locking his sights on the tank he pulled the trigger and a single round erupted from his chamber, striking the flammable tank in swift motion. A loud boom followed and in a flash the soldier and a nearby colleague were both engulfed in the bright reddish-orange flames.

"Shit, he's out there!"

"Where the hell did that come from?"

"Open fire damn it! Open fire now!"

Pandemonium ensued as the commandos fired wildly in all directions shooting wherever they thought their mysterious assailant could be located. Many of them had already been driven to near madness from all the carnage back at the base and tension they endured while guarding the antique observatory, knowing a super-powered hit man was already stalking them through the darkened woods.

Bullets soared through the air and many men fell, all cut down by friendly fire from their panicked comrades. There was no concern for their colleagues' well-being as they were all obsessed with taking down the elusive criminal, knowing the bullet had to have come from him. The sight was almost humorous to Jake as he hid in the shadows of the trees above waiting for the men to exhaust their ammo.

"That's right, just keep on shooting. I've got all of you losers right where I want you," he whispered partially unsheathing his sword. The blade glimmered in the moonlight above, having a mind of its own and an invisible voice calling for their blood.

"Where is he damn it? I can't see the bastard anywhere!" a commando called out ejecting a spent clip, his voice barely registering above the roar of gunfire.

"Shit, I can't find him! Where did he go?" another called out trying to search with his night vision goggles.

A well-muscled commando manning a deployed heavy machinegun fired random bursts into the trees hoping to hit the invisible target, but only shredding away at the foliage while another joined him with a grenade launcher firing explosive bursts into the darkness and a third armed with a S.A.W. firing more aggressively. Unfortunately for the three men, the gunners' weapons would jam simultaneously and the grenade launcher would run out of explosive rounds, as did many of their colleagues around them.

"Guess that's the cue to make my grand entrance," Jake smirked and now withdrew his blade ready for a fight.

"There he is!" a trooper called out and aimed an experimental mine launcher to the black streak leaping around in the trees above. Knowing the weapon's ammo had a deadly blast radius he fired a timed dart into a random tree and listened for the loud beep that followed. A small explosion sent embers and charred branches raining down upon the men, but yet they continued to reload and fire.

A strong gust of wind startled the trooper and the following shriek of cold steel scared him into dropping the mine launcher. How could he be scared by a gust of wind of all things? Looking down for his weapon, he would only find his intestines hanging from a major incision made across his waist and suddenly feeling faint, his arms weighing a ton as he fought in vain to hold his internal organs together.

The criminal leapt gracefully from tree to tree dodging all the bullets fired at him and raising his sword to deflect a few. With a wave of his hand, another wave of fire followed. Curses and threats were replaced by howls of frightened agony as the soldiers writhed on the ground with powerful flames eating through their suits and yet he was not done.

Leaping beneath the volley of a heavy machinegun firing in his direction, Jake again leapt into the air and twisted his body. Sword extended, he sliced the gunner's head clean off and launched a fireball into another soldier he saw heaving a heavy object into the air.

"Too easy," the criminal spoke as he used snake-like movements to dodge another flurry of hot lead aimed in his direction and shot his sword outward, running the blade through the man's stomach then pulling out and twirling to take the man's head off.

Channeling his flames into the mighty blade he held, he waved it back and forth unleashing more torrents of hellfire upon his adversaries, illuminating the once darkened forest to be seen from miles far beyond and unwittingly creating a beacon to lure in the rescue chopper that had been summoned by Wesker.

"There they are!" the navigator shouted to the pilot, "You think they're under attack?"

"Looks like we're about to find out," the pilot replied and readied the trigger for the machineguns.

With another swipe of his heavily blood-drenched blade the last commando fell before Jake's feet and he found himself falling to a knee, winded from the exchange. Covering his mouth and nose to block out the smoky air around him he took a couple deep breaths and felt the same burning feeling whenever his wounds mended themselves and within seconds felt fully reenergized.

Holding his sword in front of him like an Arthurian knight Jake's eyes followed the blade to the observatory and he fixed his gaze towards the top where he knew his adversary awaited him.

"Alright, time to settle some unfinished business," the criminal said to himself and continued his approach. "This asshole's been living on borrowed time since the moment I first met him and now it's time for the final showdown. Only one of us will walk away tonight."

Stepping over the countless corpses and drifting through the smoky air he reached the ground level entrance and just placed his blackened hand to the cool steel when the sound of heavy steel striking the rooftop echoed above the crackling flames, made noticeable by his advanced hearing.

"Huh?"

Jumping back from the door the criminal withdrew his assault rifle and pointed straight up. With a squint he was able to make out the black-clad figure of Wesker pulling himself out of the observation deck and onto the small rooftop clenching onto an antenna. He was staring at something in the westerly direction, indicating that he probably had backup on the way and the criminal would have to act fast if he wanted his revenge.

"Hey bastard, I'm down here!" Jake shouted and fired a few rounds towards his opponent. The bullets pinged off of the steel antenna and the supervisor temporarily lost his balance before catching himself and performing a graceful flip and landed on an air conditioning unit.

"You're not going anywhere Wesker, this is the end of the road. Now why don't you stop being a worthless chicken shit for once and let's finish this!"

The supervisor smirked at him and waited before making his reply. "You're right Mr. Cavanaugh; something will be finished tonight and trust me you'll be surprised by what I mean."

A loud whirr sounded from above and the criminal was forced to shield his eyes as a bright light shown down from above.

"Kill him now!" he could make out the supervisor saying over the roar of helicopter blades.

A Black Hawk MH-60A hovered in the air above and its M134 mini-guns hummed with life, ready to turn him into Swiss cheese. With a muttered curse Jake ran sloppily trying to avoid tripping over the corpses. High velocity rounds ripped through the dead commandos and ate away at the ground behind the criminal as he ran, showering him with grass, soil and other natural debris. With a mighty grunt he heaved himself over a toppled tree and went tumbling down the hill beyond it.

Jake cursed repeatedly as he rolled down the hill and bellowed loudly as he nearly dislocated his shoulder on a rock jutting out of the ground. "Damn slimy bastard," he muttered aloud shielding his face from falling debris.

The copter circled the area overhead with machineguns firing nonstop. Branches rained down as the high-powered rounds ripped through them effortlessly and a few weakened trees were chopped from their bases, forcing the criminal to flee from behind a dirt hill he laid near. In doing so, he exposed himself to the chopper's searchlight and felt the heat of a high-powered round whizzing past his head.

"Don't let up!" the pilot ordered as he inched closer to the observatory. The co-pilot maintained a death grip on the trigger and waved the machinegun around wildly.

Wesker waited atop the tower anxiously as the Black Hawk started inching closer to him, now more so worried about escaping. If they couldn't kill Cavanaugh tonight there would always be a next time, doubting it would be too hard to find the career criminal.

With a running start the supervisor leapt into the air and latched onto the bottom railing with his remaining hand and was quickly pulled in by two commandos who came along as part of the rescue party.

"Come on, let's move!" he barked to the pilot.

"But what about Cavanaugh, sir?" the pilot asked.

"Forget about him. We have neither the time nor the manpower to fight him right now. Let's just focus on getting out of here and planning on other ways to deal with his nuisance!"

Jake watched as the chopper began to slowly pull backward, but the machineguns continued to fire upon him. Crawling to higher ground while avoiding the bullets fired from above him, the criminal searched the bloodied ground for anything to use against his escaping adversary when he finally caught sight of the heavy object dropped by a soldier he killed earlier.

Lying near its former owner was a genuine surface-to-air Stinger missile launcher that still appeared to be in good working order, calling out to him with its imaginary voice.

"Score," Jake rasped and not caring if there was a chopper hovering above him, made a mad dash for the piece of artillery. A window of opportunity had opened before him and he was determined to make the most of it no matter what the case was.

The scream of machinegun fire filled the once-tranquil forest air again as the criminal came within sight. Already dead corpses jolted around him as they were riddled with bullets and a few rounds grazed the criminal's left arm as he leapt over a corpse sprawled on its side, but the virus combined with his adrenaline allowed him to ignore the pain.

Shooting his hands downward he scooped up the heavy weapon and nearly fell face first into another corpse as he struggled with the weapons weight. Another bullet caught him in the side and he could feel most of his organs nearly leap up through his throat. Intense burning pain traveled throughout his body as the bullet slowly embedded itself within him.

Blood gushed from his fresh wound in a crimson torrent and was joined by another flow as a round nicked his right shoulder. Despite the agonizing pain he was determined to kill Albert Wesker and every remaining HCF goon he could at all costs.

Grunting through the unimaginable pain Jake somehow found the strength to hoist the missile launcher onto his wounded shoulder and take a shaky aim at the hovering chopper. The laser aiming module attempted to locate its target, hampered only by the criminal's excruciating pain, but within seconds was locked on to the bird and good to go.

Thanks to the zoom feature Jake managed to make out the form of a commando with a sniper rifle taking aim at him, its red laser cutting a swath through the blackness before finding him. Behind the sniper stood Wesker himself, a soon-to-be dead menace.

"See you in Hell, Wesker!"

With a squeeze of the trigger, the heat-seeking missile was launched from its chamber and soared towards the copter with a steamy hiss.

From the cramped confines of the Black Hawk's passenger area Albert Wesker watched in disbelief as the missile sped towards him at, time slowing down allowing his life to flash before his very eyes. Gone was his feeling of invincibility, replaced by the very human sensation of his heart tightening.

"Mother-"

The rocket collided head-on with the Black Hawk's cockpit as its nose turned forward, its following explosion lighting up the nocturnal sky. From front to back the copter was swallowed whole in one huge reddish-orange gust and metal fragments were stripped away flying in every direction possible. A smoldering shell spun violently down to earth and collided with the observatory resulting in a second detonation creating an even larger explosion followed by the sounds of churning metal and crunching glass.

A concussive blast knocked Jake from his feet and showered him in more jagged fragments that cut away at his skin. The blast had been deafening and for a few moments he could only feel the vibration of his own heart beating before he started to hear the crackling of flames and crunching of glass.

Opening his eyes he quickly shut them again as he was met by a blinding orange light that made them nearly burst under pressure. Sweat and blood poured down his exposed flesh and he could feel both substances streaming into his closed eyes, prompting him to raise his bare hands and anxiously rub them away. Taking more deep breaths he opened his eyes underneath his cupped hands and gradually lowered them to take in his surroundings.

Everything around him was ablaze.

What had once been a Black Hawk helicopter now laid before him a smoldering pile of twisted metal, nearly buried by the heap created by the former observatory it had collided with. All of the trees around him were burning like giant candles as were the bushes beneath them, all caught by embers still wafting through the air.

The sight was morbidly comforting to the criminal as he stared deeply into the wreck that trapped his antagonist.

"Nice knowing you, Wesker," Jake thought coldly. The man may have survived taking a bullet between the eyes and having a limb chopped off, but there was no possible way he could have survived such a blast.

"Could he?"

Shaking his head the criminal tried to ebb that thought out of his mind. "He has to be dead. I saw what Birkin became and a self-destruct sequence was enough to kill him off for good. This has to have done the trick."

Normally he would have felt warm relief and satisfaction that yet another enemy had been laid to rest forever.

"Then again, all my other enemies were ordinary humans who you could shoot in the head and they would stay dead…forever."

He had to stop thinking like this. A demon had been exorcised from existence. He had finally won.

"This is over and that bastard is burning in Hell where he belongs."

For now he would focus on what was important: getting the hell out of this accursed forest and back to civilization.

Jake stared at the thick wall of black smoke created by the countless spirals that sprung up every second and thought he had found his way out. Feeling along the ground he found his rifle and pistol, but had to kick a severed arm aside before finding his beloved sword. Near the owner's body he found a green canteen covered in crusted dirt and blood and grabbed it knowing he would probably be needing it for a long haul ahead.

"That should be everything…" he whispered and started towards his opening in the unyielding darkness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It had been two hours since the final battle and now Jake Cavanaugh walked down a cleared path in the darkened woods, the stars acting as his guide and the full moon as his only source of light. For the first time in a long time he was alone with his thoughts.

"After all that madness it's over, but for how long?" he thought to himself. Now that he had escaped from a new threat what would become of him?

"I can't find a shrink. Too many people already want my head on a silver platter. I can't go back to civilization and join some "biohazardous nightmare survivors" support group. I definitely won't surrender to the authorities. Probably my only plausible option would be to eat a bullet and end it all…"

The criminal looked down to the rifle he held and shrugged it off.

"…but that sure as hell won't be happening today."

Right now his most pressing business was to find some place safe and with it the necessary amenities.

"A warm meal, warm shower, warm bed, change of clothes, some new transportation…have to get those things out of the way first. Whatever comes afterwards I'll just have to take it as it comes."

The gentle breeze ruffled Jake's sweaty hair and tattered uniform, creating a chill that made him sneeze.

"Don't need a damned cold after everything I've endured," he thought and chuckled aloud, a small miracle he still knew what humor was after the nightmare. Having some people around to laugh with would have been a major plus, especially if some alcoholic beverages were involved.

Thinking of other people made of him think of all the others whom he had battled through the biological nightmare with and furthermore, if any of them were still alive.

"Kevin, Alyssa and the others from the bar, Leon and Claire, Jill and Carlos, Sherry, David and his group, Billy and the other prisoners, I wonder what happened to all of them. Hopefully they managed to make it out and alert the rest of the world what was going on. Either that or they probably got rounded up by Umbrella's hit squads and massacred one by one."

Umbrella, the very word was practically vulgar to him now. He had survived tangoing with their monstrosities, but the insidious corporation still existed and would likely find a way to cover their tracks.

"Like the saying goes, money talks and bullshit walks."

The massive conglomerate still had plenty of other offices located all over the world. Trying to launch a full-scale war against them would be suicidal, but one way or another he remained optimistic they would still get theirs in the end.

Wanting to temporarily forget the recent events Jake kept moving down the trail, this time paying more attention to the natural beauty around him. Most of the trees around him were nearly bare due to the coming winter, but still looked beautiful in their own subtle way and even the dull gray rocks looked splendid. It was the same feeling of serenity he felt right after he had escaped from the underground research facility back in Raccoon, one that was threatened by the possibility of enemies still being nearby, but one that he was determined to enjoy no matter what.

"I doubt a few bothersome bullets will be able to kill me after what Wesker did to me."

His wounds from the recent battle had long since repaired themselves thanks to the variation of Tyrant and Hellfire Viruses within his system, his gift and his curse.

"I may never be free of this and I'll forever stand out because of what was done to me, but still I could use it to my advantage," Jake thought, knowing he probably wouldn't have been a match for the superhuman H.C.F. supervisor had he not been given the virus. "To the rest of the world I may appear normal, but deep down I'm a mutant, forced to hide my true power from those around me. Then again it could've been worse," another voice told him as images of zombies, Hunters and Tyrants flashed through his mind. Had he not gotten away when he did he probably would've never been able to show his face in public again.

Approaching another hill Jake readied himself for whatever lies beyond, crouching into a kneeling position and then moving with his head lowered and rifle raised. Scouting both sides he inched forward until reaching the top. It was when he finally reached the top that he dropped down to his stomach and kept his rifle trained.

A wide open clearing was down the hill and towards the back, nearly invisible in the shade of the giant pine trees stood a small cottage. To an average lost hiker it would seem like a miracle in the middle of a nightmare, but to the wary career criminal he knew better than to rush straight for it. There could have been surviving H.C.F. commandos hiding inside or maybe a half-crazed survivor with an itchy trigger finger for all he knew.

Jake waited patiently for several minutes carefully focusing on the front door through the scope of his rifle, occasionally shifting towards the windows for movement. No lights were on and no smoke could be seen emitting from the chimney, but he remained on guard and crawled a few feet before rising to a crouch walk and then taking cover behind a tree.

Keeping his rifle trained on the small building whenever he stuck his head out, he dashed from tree to tree inching closer and anxious to find out if anybody or anything was inside. If not, then he hoped there would be food or some kind of supplies he could put to use for his long haul out of the woods. He carefully inspected the building for any back doors, but found none and no windows that would be wide enough to wiggle his muscular figure through.

"Looks like I have no other choice," Jake thought focusing again on the front door, "Might have to take the shock and awe approach, doubt I'll have time to pick the lock this time."

Crawling on his stomach again as he approached the front door he did whatever he could to disguise his form from any possible occupants, the very same tactic his father had used fighting in Vietnam. Moving slowly to minimize the sound of ruffling tall grass, he kept up until he was finally touching one of the logs that made up the exterior and knelt beneath one of the windows listening for any sounds from inside. He heard nothing and approached the front door.

Looking around behind him to make sure nobody was watching him he shot his foot out and delivered a mighty kick that nearly knocked the door from its hinges, producing a crack that rang throughout the nighttime forest. Wasting no time he flung himself into the small building with rifle drawn.

Pointing his weapon in all directions Jake prowled the seemingly empty room for any signs of life, finding himself weaving around stacks of old boxes and abandoned furniture. Nobody else could be seen right away.

"Never judge a book by its cover," his mind told him, a lesson he had learned all too well in Raccoon City.

The career criminal maneuvered his way through the living room/dining room/kitchen area carefully scanning for any movement. Finding no signs of life in the front room, he did however happen across a few empty food containers and an empty 9mm. clip lying on the floor, putting him on full alert.

"Someone's been here," he thought, "but how long ago?"

Another door was seen in the back corner of the room and he took position ready for anything new. A few couple deep breaths later he threw the door open with a battle cry.

A figure lying on a small one-person bed in the corner was startled awake by the commotion and bolted into an upright position.

"Hold it right there, don't move!" Jake shouted to the person. Moonlight from a small nearby window slightly illuminated the figure and he could tell by the form (and frightened gasp) that he was dealing with another man.

"Don't shoot man!" the shadowy figure pleaded.

"Just shut the hell up and stay where you are!" Jake demanded and took a step towards the man.

"Please!" the man again begged.

"Please shut up!" Jake spat, "I don't have time for nonsense now tell me what the hell's going on!" He didn't want to sound like it, but he sounded more agitated than he did, collapsing a little from being in the woods for so long and now finally encountering someone else who was probably just as clueless as him.

"This is!" another male voice called out from behind him.

The cocking of automatic weapons sounded from behind the criminal and all he could do now was mentally curse himself for being so hasty and ignorant. Returning his attention to the man on the bed, he could see the man reach beneath the sheets for a weapon that looked to be the size of an MP5.

"Alright pal, drop your weapon right now and don't try anything funny, or else you're gonna be joining all those dead freaks outside!" the other man spoke.

Jake said nothing and dropped his rifle to the floor raising his hands into the air. The man on the bed switched on his flashlight and forced him to wince from the blinding light.

"Heh, you can lower that damn light you know!" the criminal groaned.

"Hey you just stay where you are and do as you're told!" a new voice added, this one of a female.

"Whatever," Jake grumbled, "I shouldn't be wasting my time with any of you. I'm just here to find what I need and then get away from those red-eyed freaks out there!"

No reply came from any of the other three people present, only their footsteps letting the criminal know there were stepping in front of him. They stood tall before him, the man from the bed pointing his MP5 at him, the other man pointing an M4A1 and the woman pointing a Desert Eagle. It was also in the light that he could finally make out their features more clearly.

The man from the bed stood the left of the pack with his MP5's sights directed between Jake's eyes. He was a young Caucasian in his early to mid-twenties with short light brownish colored hair, currently matted down by layers of blood and sweat, and hazel eyes hinting of post-battle anxiety. His attire hinted that of a special police operative, wearing a dark blue combat vest, brownish colored cargo pants and black fingerless gloves.

"Almost like a S.T.A.R.S. member," the criminal thought remembering the group photo from their office in the R.P.D. A gold nametag read "R. MARIN" and he also took notice of a bloodied bandage wrapped around the man's torso.

To the right was another young Caucasian male who stood close to Jake's own height with darker colored hair that contrasted sky blue eyes. This operative wore a forest green vest over a black t-shirt and gray colored cargo pants. A similar gold nametag bore the name "M. FORRESTER" and he also took note of what looked like a sniper rifle strapped to the man's back, indicating his possible team position.

In the middle stood the lady, a fiery gaze of determination burning in her bright green eyes. She appeared to be of either Italian or Hispanic descent with long black hair in a straggly ponytail hanging limply behind her and wore a torn black t-shirt, stained blue jeans, dark brown hiking boots and a harness with two pistol holsters. Underneath the layers of filth covering her she still appeared to be a very beautiful young woman. Right now though, her large gun was focused on his face and her aim was unwavering.

"Okay, you've got me standing here like a neutered pansy, now what the hell do you want from me?" Jake sarcastically quipped not caring if he was getting under their skin.

"You must really have a death wish, don't you buster?" the woman shot back, but then suddenly stopped herself before she could say anymore. The two men flanking her took notice of her dramatic pause and carefully lowered their weapons.

"What is it?" the man named Forrester asked shifting his gaze back and forth between Jake and the woman.

The woman didn't reply and only stood in wide-mouthed shock at who stood before her.

"His face…" she muttered.

"What about it?" Forrester asked quickly nodding over to his cohort.

"He…looks…familiar…" the woman slowly spoke, her tone rising with every word.

The woman's knuckles whitened as she strengthened her grip on the powerful gun and her brow furrowed. Listening closely Jake swore he could hear her teeth gnashing together like she was trying to suppress a great rage.

Jake stood silently unafraid of her menacing scowl, now acting like she recognized him.

"What the hell is it?" Marin asked next to her, becoming visibly uneasy at the tense silence in the small room.

"Yeah, spit it out already," Jake spoke up, breaking the tension.

"I know who you are!" she shouted angrily struggling not to pull the trigger.

"Really," he smirked, "You're not the first person to tell me that."

"Shut up!" she roared and the gun now shook in her hands.

"Feisty one," the criminal chuckled, figuring he could easily take all three of them if need be.

"Jake Cavanaugh?" the woman asked ignoring his smart remark.

"Who wants to know?" he replied, again examining the woman closely to see if he himself could recognize her.

"Detective Angela Cataldo of the L.S.P.D." the lady replied, "Jake Cavanaugh, you are under arrest!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: No people you are not hallucinating, I really have updated this fic and for the first time in like oh say…NEARLY TEN MONTHS!! Yes the Metal Harbinger is still among the living and has not been kidnapped by aliens or ran away and joined a cult!

Yeah I know it's been far too long since I've had the chance to update this, but as of late I've had a lot going on in my life (i.e.: having a job with full-time hours, grandfather passing away, drama caused by my dad's numerous health problems, struggling to complete a children's literature program that really sapped my creative juices for this fic and that I hoped would come back once it was over, but still hadn't until a few days ago, and most recently my rooftop leaking because of our massive snowfall from this winter and the feeling of not wanting to get too seriously entrenched knowing that I may soon have to move a lot of stuff out of my room for a period of time while my room is worked on) and a lot of it really sapped away at my creative juices leaving me left with a serious case of writer's block.

I'm happy to report though that with the help of reading some of my friend's RE stories on here, it's been helping me build up steam once again and now here I am! I already hope my next update can come much sooner.

I also have more major news to report.

While I've been on my latest "sabbatical" over the past ten months I've taken the time to read some of the more lengthy reviews left for this story and although I'm not going to name any names in particular, let's just say a lot of them have made me think a little more carefully on the content of my fic and it's come to the point where I've had to contemplate making some serious changes.

Also, I've taken the time to explore a few more fan sites that give more comprehensive chronological listings of the canon events in the RE universe that leave me feeling the need to stick more closely to the actual events and what I could do to work around them and what not, so that's been another major contributing factor in this decision of mine. Plus, the recent release of "Resident Evil: The Umbrella Chronicles" might possibly shape some future plans of mine.

I've already told this to a few select loyal viewers of mine, but I've made the decision that I am going to re-write "Darkness Arises" and if possible, try to make it bigger and better than the first!

On an extra note, if I do follow through with that, then chances are it may be "M" rated too, so you'd have to keep a close eye on author alerts and what not.

Rest assured though that because I have come so far along on this version of the fic that I will not be abandoning this piece. I have maybe only 3 or 4 more chapters to go after this one and I've decided that I'm going to stick it out and complete this version before I move onto the re-write. Also rest assured that despite doing a re-write, I will leave this fic up here on so that way if any viewers decide they don't like my new version then they will still have the original to fall back on for old times' sake. I've been coming up with ideas for other fics too so please bear with me on this one, but I will not abandon you my loyal viewers who have followed me from the beginning in this genre.

In addition to working on finishing this version and then starting up with the re-write, I also plan on working on a sequel to this fic and have a few other fics in mind relating to the DA universe, including a fic based on epilogues of all the other characters who have played a major role in this universe, a prequel/side story fic featuring David McGraw as the main character and more recently, a side story fic that will follow the exploits of Detective Angela Cataldo at the same time as Jake fought for his very survival during DA.

Speaking of Angela Cataldo, very early in this fic I received LOTS of reviews suggesting that I should introduce a female detective character for Jake Cavanaugh to interact with, well here she is! I know it's pretty late in a fic to be introducing her, but as stated above I will expand upon her character in the side story I'm planning for her. I just feel glad that I've found a way to include this major request for a lot of my viewers.

There really isn't much else up besides being happy to finally have this up so until next time, this is the Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME!!


	54. Chapter 48: Mysterious Saviors

Darkness Arises

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: Never fear ladies and gentlemen, the Metal Harbinger has once again come out of hiding to deliver his latest installment of "Darkness Arises!" As I type up this chapter I'd assume that I have maybe 2 regular chapters left in addition to an epilogue. I'm getting close to the end people, I can just feel it! Now on with the story!

Chapter 48: Mysterious Saviors

"Jake Cavanaugh, you are under arrest!"

Staring back at the three gun-toting officers, Jake really didn't feel threatened at all. He only stared back blankly at them, ready for their challenge if they tried anything funny. To Detective Cataldo's right he could already see Officer Marin reaching for a pair of handcuffs with his free hand and Officer Forrester looking like he was getting ready to assist the man.

He really had no time for a situation like this given everything he had just been through, but knew he couldn't run off just yet.

"Under what charges?" the hit man asked crossing his arms showing his lack of intimidation. The current situation was almost humorous to him given the current condition they were in.

The young detective was becoming visibly unnerved within his presence and struggled to maintain her composure.

"Don't get cocky with me, bastard. You know what you did!" she snarled taking another step towards Jake. "You've murdered countless people, including my brother and now I'm going to bring you in, even if I have to drag your maggot-infested corpse all the way back to Los Santos!"

"You're seriously trying to arrest me here of all places?" the criminal scoffed, "Right here in the middle of the freaking woods!"

"You just watch yourself buddy!" Forrester shouted, "After what we've heard about you I'm about ready to do the exact same thing!"

Marin and Forrester both stood in front of Jake with their weapons trained, but yet they suddenly stopped and didn't attempt to wrest him down to the ground like other officers would.

"She must've told them a lot about my past exploits," Jake thought to himself noting the officers' delayed reaction. He cleared his throat and spoke again.

"Do you seriously think you're in any condition to be arresting me? Look at yourselves, judging by that blood and grime I'd say you've all been through Hell and back and are probably too worn out to even fire those things. Not to mention there's only three of you, and yet you seem to know what I'm capable of. Bet you probably don't even have anything to call for backup with either, if there even is any after what happened in Raccoon and Springvale."

"Just shut up will you?" Angela shouted ready to pull the trigger at any second, "if you're going to be like that then I should just fucking kill you where you stand already!" He could tell by her shaky hands that she was truly dying to pull the trigger and needed an excuse to do so. Yet at the same time, she hesitated to act.

"Well then shoot me already!" Jake exclaimed shooting his opened arms to his sides, "Come and get that brass ring that a whole bunch of other pigs want! Come on, I'm right in front of you and I'm unarmed!"

"He's trying to get inside your head, remember your orders Angela!" Marin shouted next to her.

A flash of red suddenly caught Jake's attention and he diverted his gaze from the three officers. A red dot shone through the window in the background and looked like it was about to lock in on the fuming detective.

"Sniper! Are those H.C.F. bastards still out there?" he thought to himself.

"Worry about your orders later pig, get down!" Jake shouted as he shot his hands out, gripping the detective's shoulders and pulling her down to the floor with him.

Both Forrester and Marin looked at the pair dumbfounded until the latter spotted the red dot trailing along his partner's neck to his chin.

"Shit!" Marin blurted out as he tackled his fellow officer out of harm's way. The crack of automatic fire pierced the air and bullets ripped through the material on the back of the officer's protective vest as he remained airborne, missing his flesh by mere inches.

"What the hell?" Angela cried out in confusion as she felt around for her Desert Eagle.

The roar of multiple firearms sounded as bullets peppered the small building, raining down bits of wood and glass upon the four weary survivors.

"It must be those black-masked freaks from Springvale again!" Marin shouted clutching his MP5 tightly.

"Wonder how the hell they tracked us all the way over to here?" Forrester added checking the current magazine in his rifle.

Jake crawled along the floor and snatched up his own rifle and listened intently for any sounds from outside. When nothing was heard he looked back over to Angela and whispered to her.

"I take it you know these freaks too?" Jake asked as he lay on his back pointing his rifle at the shattered window.

The young detective did not reply immediately and looked over to the two officers as if seeking their approval. When Forrester nodded silently back she spoke.

"Back in Springvale," she muttered, "Those bastards just appeared from out of nowhere and started shooting everything in sight."

"It didn't matter whether whatever they were shooting was alive or dead, so we suspect that whoever they work for they were probably there on some sort of cover up mission," Forrester added.

"For whom, we have no idea," Marin continued, wincing as he applied pressure on his wounded side.

"Gotta be some of Wesker's lapdogs out there, no doubt," Jake told himself, "Only they could have the kind of firepower to conduct such an attack right now."

The four survivors remained on the floor knowing that their enemies probably had their weapons trained on the windows and front door waiting for any signs of movement. It was unknown how many waited for them and if they would even have enough ammo to deal with all of them if need be.

"We can't just go out there right now," Forrester whispered loudly, "Whoever these guys are, they're very well-coordinated, probably have a near endless amount of ammo and have us pinned down on our stomachs so far. We have no means of calling for help from the outside world and I seriously doubt waiting them out is an option. Whether we like it or not, we're going to have to do something."

"And fast," Marin spoke up, "We haven't made any noise yet and it's only a matter of time before they storm this place looking for us."

Angela sighed heavily and pounded her clenched fist against the floor wanting to give up, but knew she had to keep fighting forth. "Damned freaks," was all she could muster.

Jake wanted to tell the rest of them about Albert Wesker and that those men out there probably worked for him, but then he remembered how he had seemingly liquidated the supervisor back at Lookout Point. A grim smile crossed his lips as he thought of his deed, but was then back to business as he thought of his current situation. He figured if the man was dead then there was no use in telling them about him. That would only put them under additional stress.

"Alright you're the cops, so what are we going to do then?" Jake asked watching intently for any red laser beams. "I'm getting pretty tired of being a sitting duck right now and getting anxious to pop a few of those creeps after all the shit they've put me through."

"Typical bloodthirsty psychotic killer," Angela hissed with a nasty stare in the hit man's direction.

Forrester rolled his eyes in frustration at the detective, "Angela now is not the time for some petty grudge. In case you haven't noticed, we're pinned down by a bunch of trigger happy madmen and there are only four of us here, not to mention one of us being badly injured.

"I understand your mission and that you probably have your own personal reasons for going after Jake, but right now we don't have much choice. Whoever he is, what matters right now is that he's an able fighter and we need all the help we can get if we wanna make it out of this mess alive.

"When this is all said and done, then you can slap the cuffs on and haul him away."

Jake gave a silent nod of thanks to the level-headed officer, whom he could now tell was definitely a S.T.A.R.S. officer from the patch on his right shirt sleeve. Looking back over his shoulder he could see Angela staring at him angrily, but simultaneously seemed able to control herself for the sake of her two companions.

"Alright, if we're going to prepare for an assault we're going to have to do an ammo check first," the officer spoke and showed his weapons.

Jake still carried the M4A1 and SOCOM he had picked up from the commando near Lookout Point, as well as his sword, which was worthless for a situation like this. Angela protectively clutched her Desert Eagle, which was now down to its final clip, and still carried her police-issued Beretta M92FS, equally low on ammo. Both Marin and Forrester carried the Beretta M92F typically issued to S.T.A.R.S. members and still carried their primary weapons. Marin had his MP5 with its current clip half full and two extras in reserve. Forrester had both an M4A1 assault rifle and PSG-1 sniper rifle with a considerable amount of ammo for the former and next to nothing for the latter.

Between the three of them, the officers had found two Remington shotguns during their previous trek through Springvale, which would have been useless in a long distance firefight like this one, and an S&W M629C similar to what he entered Raccoon City with, a powerful gun that had saved his life in many fights with the larger monsters. They didn't have much compared to however many troopers there were out there, but would have to make due with whatever they had.

"Any idea how many are out there?" Angela asked noting that Forrester was closest to the window.

"No clue," he replied, "Wish I had a damned opti-wand with me now or something. They'd pop me the second they saw a hair on my head."

The roar of automatic fire again silenced every other sound and the four survivors were again jolted as more debris rained down upon them, much larger than the last time around.

"Fuck!" Jake grunted aloud as a large chunk of wood fell from the ceiling and struck him just above his right temple. "Persistent bastards," he muttered as he felt fresh blood starting to run down past his ear. The cacophony of gunfire grew in volume as if their faceless attackers seemed to be methodically approaching their rickety hideout. Their toying with him was seriously getting under his nerves and the inhuman heat returned to his clenched fists as he pictured his hands melting the flesh underneath their garish masks.

"That's it!" he thought.

This time the attackers outside were more unrelenting and fired until several boards on the exterior had cracked. Beams of moonlight peered in through the openings and through them Jake could make out a few pairs of glowing red goggles staring in like the demons from Hell coming to claim him. A smirk only came to his lips as he raised his hand into the air.

Flames crackled to life from out of nowhere and the tiny bedroom was illuminated by his burning fist.

The three officers stopped everything they were doing and stared at him in wide-mouthed awe. Forrester shook his head and blinked his eyes rapidly to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

"It's a long story," the hit man shrugged.

"What are you doing? You're going to lead them to us!" Angela half-shouted, quickly clamping a hand over her mouth when she realized she had spoken aloud with the commandos nearby.

"I know," Jake replied, "that's what I want."

Knowing they would probably think a fire had been lit inside the cabin; his plan was to lure his enemies in and ignite as many of them as he could. With the three officers backing him up he knew they could handle the rest with their remaining ammo.

"This is going to be like shooting fish in a barrel," he thought. "Just shut up and get ready," he whispered to the others.

Outside a small group of heavily-armed H.C.F. commandos approached the bullet-riddled cabin as they noticed the glowing orange light radiating from within. Whatever it was they were determined to find out. All they knew right now was that they had to confirm the deaths of Jake Cavanaugh and those three meddlesome officers who had eluded them back in Springvale. There would be a handsome reward in store when they brought back the severed heads of their four targets to the board of directors.

Taking a cue from the lead operative, the troopers again fired in unison with everything they had, backed up by the troopers hiding in the distance. Due to the dry foliage nearby they were unable to use grenades or flamethrowers. More attention from the authorities was the last thing they wanted. Gunfire rang out until all of the rifles clicked dry and then they stopped for one last reload.

Raising his hand to halt his subordinates, the lead operative marched towards the splintered door and jump kicked the remnants away. The entire cabin interior flashed orange and a second later a stream of fire shot out of the small building, immolating the lead operative and several other surrounding troopers.

"Get ready, now!" Jake shouted to the officers as he waved his hands back and forth spewing more torrents of flame upon their black-clad adversaries. Frightened commandos scampered around the open area seeking any kind of cover they could find and more curses filled the air.

Taking advantage of the situation, Forrester and Marin both took positions at the hit man's sides and opened fire. The former officer, being in excellent health, managed to drop three of the commandos right away before being forced to reload. Marin on the other hand had trouble steadying his aim right away due to his injury, but caught himself within minutes and also dropped three of their enemies.

"There's too many!" Marin grunted as he ejected his latest clip, "We're gonna have to get out of here!" He had to shout over the roar of fire as Jake formed a protective wall in front of them, melting the high-powered rounds fired upon them.

"But where will we go?" Angela asked. A pair of glowing red electronic eyes appeared before her and she quickly fired two shots from her Desert Eagle. The eyes soon vanished only to be replaced by two more, but Forrester appeared and fired one of his last PSG-1 rounds to take down the extra attacker.

"Anywhere but here," Jake shot back, "Like I said, I'm just along for the ride."

With a strained grunt the hit man shoved the protective wall of fire away from him, igniting another line of armored troopers and forcing a few others to retreat further into the surrounding darkness. He would have to burn everything he could to take away their only remaining protection.

Summoning everything he could, he launched fireball after fireball, wave after wave of flames. Everything burned a bright reddish-orange and the remaining commandoes were now sitting ducks for what remaining ammo the officers carried.

The three officers grunted and coughed roughly as the flames began to spread.

"Come on!" Forrester shouted in between coughs, "We've gotta get moving before we get smothered!" he said making reference to the impending smoke inhalation that would kill them if the commandoes' bullets didn't.

"Alright, I'll cover you!" Jake gasped as he too had inhaled too much smoke. Raising his rifle again he fired rounds at their attackers before turning to run after his companions.

Not too far ahead of him the three officers ran on pumping their legs as fast as they could. It was an arduous task as they stumbled over fallen branches and rocks, including a low hanging branch that had scratched Angela across the face and left her crying out in pain. The thick smoke in the air didn't help matters much either as the four survivors still found themselves gagging uncontrollably, including Forrester who had forced himself to a stop so he could vomit. It seemed like a good idea to the criminal himself, but his spinning vision kept him moving forth and nearly collided with the wounded Marin in the process.

The wounded officer had attempted to sidestep expecting his companion to bump into him, only to find himself tripping over the jagged tip of a fallen branch and screaming out in pain.

"Robbie!" Angela shouted and rushed back to the fallen S.T.A.R.S. operative's aid quickly lifting him into a sitting position.

Jake knelt down and used a naturally generated flame to create a makeshift torch. The branch had ripped through the officer's pant leg and blood was already seeping out from underneath.

Angela's breathing hastened as she searched around for something to press against his fresh wound. "C'mon, there has to be something I can use or else you're going to bleed to death!"

Robbie Marin grunted again and clamped down on her upper arm, "Don't worry about me. Just catch up to Mike!" he said referring to Officer Forrester.

"But your leg!" the detective protested, "It could be broken and you'll bleed to death if we don't find something to cover that wound!"

"I'll worry about that later!" the S.T.A.R.S. officer shot back and forcefully bent his right leg to make sure it wasn't broken. "If it's not broke I can keep moving. I'm not going to let some damn scratch slow me down in this place of all places. Now for God's sakes just catch up to Mike!"

Angela opened her mouth to speak further, only to be halted again as Jake placed a hand in front of her.

"Do what he says," He sternly ordered, "I'll help him!"

Grabbing the downed officer's arm he wrapped it around his shoulders and pulled the man back to his feet.

"Think you'll make it?" he whispered to Marin.

"Yes…thank you…" the officer spoke and tugged on his helper's arm to signal he was ready. Jake took one last look over his shoulder to see the flames spreading closer and closer and looked up to where some embers had already ignited a spruce tree towering over them. In the distance he could still hear the pained cries of dying commandoes.

"Alright, we're off," he told the officer and began dragging him forward through the underbrush and further away from the encroaching fire.

Up ahead Mike Forrester swatted more jagged branches away as he attempted to create a safe path for his comrades, but was encountering more obstacles than expected and could feel the warm, coppery blood spilling down his face.

"Mike, do you see anything?" Angela called out before looking over her shoulder at the approaching flames and the two men lagging behind.

"Nothing of use!" he called back before three loud pops resounded above the crackling flames followed by an all too familiar spray of crimson. The S.T.A.R.S. marksman collapsed to the ground.

"Mike!!"

Jake watched the officer collapse to the ground and dove to the ground dragging Marin with him. "Shit, there are more of them!" he whispered loudly and kept the man's head low to the ground despite his protests.

"But we've gotta help him!" the wounded operative exclaimed flailing his arms about. He had already lost the rest of his unit back in Springvale and was determined not to lose yet another member, especially the one whom he revered as a brother.

"Just stay here and stay down!" Jake ordered releasing his grip on the officer and climbing on his stomach towards the other downed operative.

Angela had ducked behind a tree for cover and popped out to fire her remaining Desert Eagle rounds at their unseen attacker, a move for which she mentally cursed herself right away. Another round of gunfire rang out from multiple weapons, forcing her down into the tall grass as tree bark was chipped away around her. Out of desperation she drew her Beretta and fired a few more rounds. It was another foolish rookie mistake, but her predicament was too great and left her pondering her own mortality once again.

Tears rolled freely down her face as she thought of her failure to avenge her own brother and had failed everybody who had died around her in Springvale. All she could do now was sink to her knees in defeat and wait for those men to come finish the job.

A grunt came from her right and from the tall snake grass Jake emerged crawling on his stomach.

"Are you alright?" the criminal asked rolling over onto his back and looking up into her misty eyes. Physically she looked fine aside from a few cuts and bumps, but mentally she looked to be a different story and he spoke no further.

"Mike…" she muttered.

Rising to his hands and knees Jake cautiously searched above the protective tall grass for any signs of Mike or more attackers, but saw nothing not even any glowing red eyes from the commandos' goggles. He did however see the area of matted grass where the S.T.A.R.S. officer had fallen and so would Angela.

"He's still there…" she whispered, "…we have to get him to safety…"

Something had to be done fast as the forest fire continued its relentless advance. All she could do was look to her unlikely companion and hope he could provide some kind of assistance, a small glimmer of hope at the best.

"Jake, do you think you could get him?" Angela asked nervously, aware that she was asking a dangerous criminal to perform a task for her. "We have to get him out of here…we just have to!"

The hit man sighed and looked up to the detective. "I won't lie; it would be a major risk to grab him, even with my powers and all. It's going to have to be a major snatch and grab, not forgetting about our other wounded comrade."

"But we can't leave a man behind, we can't!"

Jake understood where she was coming from. Leaving a man behind was never an option, not even for a hardened criminal like himself. Whether the man was dead or somehow still alive he would need to be collected, at least to bring some closure to his colleagues and loved ones if it was the former. He remembered the stories Jill had told him about the Spencer Estate and about all of her teammates that had perished on that night. Due to their circumstances they had been unable to collect their bodies and instead could only bury their badges and their weapons.

"Okay, I'll see what I can do. If they do anything to me, get the hell out of here!" Jake whispered getting into position.

Angela said nothing and looked on quietly. Even if he was a criminal for now she would put aside her grudge for the sake of saving a fellow law enforcement officer.

With a flick of his hand Jake launched a fireball into the direction of the gunfire. No screams or any other sounds could be heard so he raised his M4A1 and fired a continuous burst as he rushed for the spot Mike had fallen. The opposing gunfire resumed when his rifle clicked empty forcing him down into the grass once again.

"Forrester, are you still with me?" he half-shouted as he crawled towards the spot where the S.T.A.R.S. officer had fallen.

Pushing his hands through more tall grass he eventually felt the warmth of another human's flesh. Moving his hand up along the prone officer's arm he felt the man's sticky blood.

"Forrester, speak to me!" he shouted nudging the facedown cop, "Say anything damn it!"

A labored groan escaped the man's lips, muffled by the grass and dirt he laid. The bloody arm twitched as pressure was applied and a more agonized gasp followed.

"Okay, he's alive," Jake thought as he rolled the wounded man over onto his back and wiped the dirt and grass out of his face. The entire front of his forest green vest was colored crimson by the blood oozing out of his three recently acquired wounds, all found in his right shoulder.

"If we don't get him to a hospital or something he won't be alive much longer."

High-powered rounds tore through the grass above the two men, close enough the hitman was able to feel his already dampened hair being ruffled by the wind from the volley. In the distance Angela returned fire and managed to hit one of the gunmen, evidenced by a thud and the snapping of branches near both men. In desperation Jake snatched Mike's own M4A1 and rose up to return fire.

Two of those black-masked creatures rushed towards him with rifles drawn and in the distance several more pairs of glowing red eyes watched him, malicious souls waiting for their own piece of fresh meat.

The criminal squeezed the trigger and dropped one of the commandos before his partner could open fire, forcing him to roll to his left and hurriedly crawl again as more troopers opened fire from the shadows. Two more gunmen appeared to replace their fallen comrade and fired away.

Jake launched another fireball and caught one of the troopers in the chest sending him to the ground, but had been caught off guard by an exceptionally fast trooper who had caught him with three rounds to his left arm and shoulder, crippling his ability to shoot flames from that hand.

Crying out in pain, he tried to fire the rifle but the recoil sent it flying from his hands. Another round had caught him in the side and he forcefully launched himself out of the way to avoid another flurry, but was grazed by two more rounds.

"Shit…shit…shit…" he gagged moving with all the desperation in the world. "Come on damn it!" his mind screamed to his body hoping his regenerative powers would kick in and heal him soon.

Another rattle of automatic fire resonated as Marin had risen back to his feet in a fraught attempt to assist his companions, only to be pistol whipped to the ground by a commando who had snuck up behind him and then kicked repeatedly by the man's friends.

Angela then leapt out and raised her pistol to fire, only to greet her adversaries with an empty click.

"No…not now!" she gasped. The commandos laughed harshly at the unfortunate detective and one of them walked over to her knocking the empty gun from her hands and then striking her with the butt of his rifle.

"You bastards aren't so tough now are you?" one of the commandos shouted walking up and kicking Jake in the side as hard as he could, prompting another anguished scream of pain.

"You owe us a scream after everything you've put us through!" another exasperated voice called out stomping hard on his spinal cord.

"Now it ends!" the first commando growled flipping Jake over onto his back and shining his torch into prone man's eyes.

Too weak to raise his fists he could tell the H.C.F. commando had his barrel trained on him ready to fire. Even though he had managed to kill Wesker, it was even more ill-fated to die by one of his weaker lackeys.

BANG!!

The gunshot was deafening and a wave of nothingness overcame Jake Cavanaugh. He was afraid to open his eyes, not knowing whether he would be met by the pearly white gates of Heaven and be reunited with his beloved Ashley or by the blinding fires of Hell and finding himself impaled on the end of Satan's pitchfork.

There was only one way to find out.

Opening his eyes the night sky still stood above him and smoke still wafted through the air.

"What the…?"

Turning to his right he gasped. The very man who had stood above him with his rifle trained on him ready to end his life now lay in the wet grass next to him, the left lens of his gasmask completely shattered with fresh blood percolating from the new hole.

Upon noticing the dead man next to him, the hired gun's hearing slowly began to return and he could now make out more gunfire and more screams, the dying cries of the H.C.F. commandos.

"Who the hell are these people?" one of the commandos called out.

"More people, here?" Jake thought to himself.

Taking a few deep breaths he managed to roll himself back over onto his stomach and pushed aside some of the tall grass to look for any new figures.

Two H.C.F. commandos standing side by side fired at an unseen attacker, only to be cut down for their troubles. Another figure then stepped into the picture, this individual a taller man in woodland camouflage armed with an M4A1 that had a grenade launcher attachment.

"Are they here to save us?" Jake asked himself. Perhaps a cavalry had arrived after all.

"Wait, don't move!" a feminine voice called out from above him.

Running into view came another masked individual, this figure much smaller and carrying a first aid kit. He could tell already it was a woman and she knelt down next to him reaching for some antiseptics.

"Please don't move!" she ordered again, "You've been shot!"

Jake winced as he felt the burn from the antiseptics followed by the spray from some first-aid spray he hadn't used since Raccoon.

"My god, they got you pretty bad. It's a miracle you're still alive," the mystery woman spoke as her green-eyed gaze met his.

She seemed like a hardened veteran despite her youthful-sounding voice, one who had already seen ten times the bloodshed as a soldier years older. It was knowledge and patience that was helping further to save his life in place of his powers.

Jake only chuckled at the comment, "Once you've been around me longer you'll know I'm more than meets the eye."

Confused silence followed from the woman and her gaze never wavered until the criminal convulsed violently and felt the burning return.

"You're about to see now!"

One by one Jake's wounds slowly began to mend, much to the woman's astonishment. The surprise quickly turned to horror for her and she leapt back drawing an H&K M-59 submachine gun on him.

"D-D-Don't come any closer!" she shouted and tripped over the already wounded Forrester backpedaling through the grass.

"Lady relax, I'm not going to hurt you! I'm not going to hurt you!" he shouted.

"But y-you're one of…them!" she shouted back and rolled over onto her hands and knees running towards Marin.

"No, I'm not! I'm not with those bastards!"

Jake tried to run after the woman, only to be stopped by two more masked men, each pointing matching M4A1's in his face.

It was at this time that he had finally gotten a clear view of the aftermath of the masked gunmen's sudden appearance. All around him lay the shot up corpses of the remaining H.C.F. commandos, somehow taken down by a much smaller group of individuals who appeared to be trained killers and by all accounts had probably seen enough combat to know how to outwit such fighters.

"Just who the hell are-"

The hitman cried out in pain and jerked violently as an electrified barb was shot into the back of his neck from an unseen assailant. Several thousand volts of electricity surged throughout his body, weakening him and leaving him unable to summon his flames. No matter how hard he fought it the shockwave was too powerful and he quickly collapsed to his knees. Reaching out weakly for the men in front of him his arm collapsed like it felt a ton and soon went the rest of his body with it before he finally passed out in a clump of wet grass.

Another masked man behind the criminal switched off his air taser and motioned for another companion that it was safe to join him. From the safety of a nearby trench emerged another woman, this one in her early twenties with shoulder-length red hair and dressed like the other S.T.A.R.S. members, except she wore a dark red combat vest and navy blue cargo pants. Her right arm was in a sling and in her good hand she held a MAC-10 Uzi.

Cautiously approaching the downed criminal he gently nudged him with his boot and when he didn't move he called for the young medic.

"Alright, get the sedative ready. Not too strong though we need him alive." the leader ordered and then addressed the other gunmen. "Get his binds ready just in case he wakes up before we need him to. I've heard what this guy might be capable of."

The two other men nodded and pulling out pairs of shackles proceeded to bind his ankles together and his wrists behind his back.

Pulling out a transponder device the masked leader typed in the coordinates of their exact location and then tapped on his earpiece.

"Barry, I'm sending you our coordinates now. We need you here A.S.A.P."

"I'm on it!" a gruff voice called out from the other end.

"Are you sure this will keep him out until we get back?" the medic asked, "He looks like he's one of those B.O.W.'s. What if he attacks us?"

"Combined with all those volts, your sedative and these shackles I don't think he'll be getting up for a while…at least not until we need him to," one of the gunmen replied.

Angela watched the four gunmen carry out their unknown task involving her suspect only to be surprised by the presence of another woman, who was dressed similarly to Mike and Robbie. Were these friendly faces that had come to save them or were they in cahoots with the hitman? She was out of ammo and still sore from the pistol whip she had received just moments before, leaving her at their mercy if they weren't friendly.

"Hey, you can come out now. We mean you no harm!" the S.T.A.R.S. woman called out.

Mike and Robbie both quickly perked up at the sound of the woman's voice.

"Oh my god…Sara is that you?" Robbie asked rising back to his knees.

"In the flesh!" the woman smiled.

Tears of joy immediately formed in the wounded man's bloodshot eyes and he hobbled his way over to the battered woman throwing his arms around her.

"My god…I thought you were dead!" he rasped clutching her tightly.

"I thought the same of all of you too…" Sara trailed returning the man's embrace. The newly arrived S.T.A.R.S. member then turned her attention to Forrester, who was now being treated by the masked medic.

Seeing a face that was familiar to both her companions finally convinced the detective that she must have been among friends, but she still kept her guard up as she stepped out from behind the bullet-riddled tree.

The S.T.A.R.S. members congregated for a small reunion and the two other men guarded the incapacitated criminal, leaving the group's "leader" standing alone with a rifle in hand waiting for their transport.

Cautiously approaching the man Angela raised her hands to show him she was unarmed and then presented her badge to him.

"Detective Angela Cataldo of the Los Santos Police Department!" she announced, "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"Ma'am we're here on a mission and if you're a survivor of the Raccoon or Springvale disasters you're going to need to come with us!" the man ordered and motioned to his subordinates who nodded in agreement.

"Please, I must know who you are. I want to make sure you're not with those bastards who tried killing us back in Springvale!"

The man looked to his subordinates as if looking for his answer. Again they nodded in unison and he looked back to the detective cautiously before removing his balaclava, revealing himself to be a handsome young man in his mid-twenties with slicked back dark brown hair and gray eyes.

"Chris Redfield, S.T.A.R.S. Raccoon City Division…or at least I used to be," the leader spoke

Taking their leader's cue the three other mysterious saviors removed their balaclavas. The medic who had been working on the wounded Forrester was revealed to be a woman with short auburn hair who looked like she still should have been in high school. Hovering over the unconscious Jake Cavanaugh were two more men, one a dark-haired Caucasian and the other a taller, dark-skinned mountain of muscle that had reminded her much of Chapel, a deceased teammate of Mike and Robbie's whom the former had been forced to kill himself when he became infected.

"The medic is Rebecca Chambers, another Raccoon City survivor, and the other two are David Trapp and John Andrews, both members of the Exeter Branch of S.T.A.R.S."

"You mean WERE members of S.T.A.R.S." David called out in a thick British accent. "We were members of S.T.A.R.S. 'til Umbrella decided to buy out our superiors. Now you could say we're all just a couple of 'freelancers' looking for different ways to pay the rent."

"So you're all S.T.A.R.S. too?" Marin asked looking around to find himself among allies.

"Yep, what's left of them," John replied, "At least what hasn't been bought out yet."

"Well then you can say we're what's left of the Eagle Point S.T.A.R.S." Sara entered offering her good hand to the giant, "Sara Quigley."

"Robert Marin," the scout spoke extending his own hand.

Chris then approached Mike and knelt before him, "And I take it you must be Mike Forrester."

"That would be me…" Mike hissed as some bandages were tightened over his wounds. "I got your e-mail Redfield…" he trailed off as a last minute adjustment was made.

"Shame we have to meet under these circumstances, Officer." Chris said studying the three battered survivors.

"Don't mention it…" Mike gasped, "…at least now we know you're not the crazy lunatic your chief tried making you out to be."

Angela shifted her attention back to Jake Cavanaugh, who still lay unconscious on the ground breathing faintly.

"What about him?" she asked pointing, "Where are you taking him? He's a wanted criminal. Why do you need him alive?"

"I'm afraid we can't tell you here, but you have to trust us." Chris stated, "All I can tell you is that we have a long war ahead of us and we're going to need his help."

Author's Note: At last the end of another regular chapter has been reached and as stated above, the end is near! Read and review whenever you get the chance and as always SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	55. Chapter 49: Deal With a Dragon

Darkness Arises

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: Hey everybody, the Metal Harbinger is back in action! I never thought I'd make it this far, but I have and now I'm nearing the end and am very proud of myself.

Before I go any further though, I want to help promote a Resident Evil fic on this site that I found thoroughly enjoyable.

A while back on here JACCO authored a Resident Evil/Half-Life crossover fic entitled "Project: Matrix," a GREAT fic in my opinion. Unfortunately though, he stopped working on the fic because he felt that he wasn't getting enough reviews for it and in an effort to help him jumpstart it again I am promoting the hell out of it for the opening in this chapter. When you get the time, please read and review JACCO's "Project: Matrix." Thank you!

On another non-project related note, Cr0w I'm always happy to inspire! If you ever do come out with an RE fic of your own I promise to check it out.

Now back to my fic, I still have one more regular chapter as promised and then an epilogue and then this will be my first official finished piece here, but it won't be the end for everybody's favorite antihero as I have more adventures planned for him in the future. Without further ado, on with the story!!

Chapter 49: Deal With a Dragon

_"Hello Pennsylvania, this is Kip Willows with your PSN Channel 7 Morning Action News!_

_"Our top story for this morning, the Governor has declared a State of Emergency for all eastern Pennsylvania counties following an outbreak of catastrophes occurring in the fallout of last week's decimation of Raccoon City._

_"Immediately following Raccoon's destruction, the National Guard was summoned to nearby Springvale where there had been a similar 'incident' involving the disappearance of all residents. So far neither the Governor nor the State Attorney General is commenting on the cause of the incident._

_"Reported on the same day was a massive shooting in the nearby city of Maple that had left several civilians and two-thirds of the city's police force dead, along with several thousand dollars worth of property damage. Due to the lack of available officers, agencies from all over the state have been dispatched to handle all law enforcement duties._

_"The most recent development has been an outbreak of forest fires in the vicinity of Verdant Mountain._

_"So far it is confirmed that both the government-owned Carnarvon Munitions Depot and local tourist attraction Lookout Point have been claimed in the ensuing blazes. State fire and rescue services have been working around the clock to extinguish the blazes._

_"In an odd coincidence, while sorting through the wreckage of Carnarvon Munitions, fire investigators discovered what they believe are the charred remains of wanted fugitive Jacob Cavanaugh._

_"At this moment the remnants are far too damaged to confirm if they do indeed belong to the missing suspect, but will be thoroughly examined in due time._

_"Cavanaugh was wanted for numerous counts of homicide, extortion, weapons smuggling and terrorism. What he would be doing at the site is a mystery to local authorities, but does raise questions of suspected corruption within the company ranks._

_"Carnarvon representatives have denied any possible ties between either parties and refused further comment on the situation."_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Oh…uh…where…ah damn!"

A great pain instantly shot through his neck as he slowly stirred back into consciousness, almost like somebody had jammed a dagger into him.

Jake ignored the searing pain the best he could as he rose to a sitting position and lifted his legs from the mattress he laid upon to a tile floor beneath him. Taking a deep breath his head tipped back against a concrete wall and he instantly jolted as another wave of pain from his neck shot up to his skull and down his spinal cord simultaneously.

"What gives?" he muttered rubbing the spot on his neck where the sensation emanated from. It suddenly hit him as he remembered the feeling as he had felt it before. Somebody had used a taser on him.

Having rubbed away most of the numbness he rotated his head cracking his neck back into place and finally got a look at his surroundings.

Once again the hitman had found himself in what appeared to be a cell. This room had been much cleaner than the one he awoke in back at the H.C.F. hideout, well-lit and his cot had been much more comfortable. Straight across from his bed was a two way mirror and next to it an electronically locked door with a small window currently covered by a shutter from the other side. In the corner above the door was a video monitor that caught his attention.

"Now where the hell am I?" he asked aloud walking over to the monitor. "More importantly, who the hell has me now?"

His focus now shifted to the two way mirror and he slowly approached squinting to see if he could make anything out on the other side, but it was too thick.

"We would really appreciate it if you would please take a seat Mr. Cavanaugh," a voice called out from above.

"Huh?"

Looking up to the ceiling Jake now noticed a small microphone near the lone light fixture.

"Must be more people who are 'connected,'" Jake thought to himself, "But to whom? Are they with Umbrella or Wesker's boys? Must be somebody else or they probably would've killed me by now."

"Please take a seat Mr. Cavanaugh, we have some very important business to discuss with you," the voice spoke again.

Jake said nothing and knowing that he would probably get some answers the sooner he cooperated he took a seat on the cot, staring intently at the two way mirror again. "They'd better give me some answers."

"How are you feeling? I understand you're probably still in a little bit of pain after that mess at Verdant Mountain. We apologize if we caused you any further aggravation."

Again the criminal remained silent. This was irritating him already and he would probably snap if he didn't get some answers.

"Probably pigs," he thought to himself.

"Okay, we'll just get straight down to business then…" the man spoke

"Wait, first let me know who the hell I'm dealing with," Jake said breaking his silence, "The last bastard who wanted to do "business" with me tried to kill me in the end." He was unable to contain his exasperation as he thought of Wesker pulling the same stunt on him.

"Sure thing," the man spoke.

The monitor switched on automatically and a young man appeared. He was around Jake's age with short dark brown hair and wearing a green combat vest like a tactical officer.

"Chris Redfield, former Raccoon City S.T.A.R.S. division at your service," the man spoke.

"Another S.T.A.R.S. guy huh? I'm familiar with your people," Jake spoke thinking of Jill from Raccoon City and the members he had fought alongside at Verdant Mountain.

The officer nodded in acknowledgment and resumed where he had left off.

"Like I've said Mr. Cavanaugh, we have some important business to discuss with you, business that could very well change your life and ours as well."

"Now where haven't I heard that line before?" Jake sarcastically replied rolling his eyes.

Redfield ignored the criminal's comment and continued forth, "Fine I'll cut to the chase. We're in the middle of a war, a secret war with the Umbrella Corporation. I'm sure after this past week you've become accustomed to what they're really up to."

"Umbrella," Jake replied, "Do continue, I wanna hear what those bastards are up to now."

Chris cleared his throat before continuing. "They were behind the Spencer Estate incident that occurred in the Arklay Mts. back in July, an incident which claimed the lives of 7 of our teammates. They were also responsible for creating the Bio-Organic Weapons that would escape and eventually overrun Raccoon City."

The S.T.A.R.S. officer's tone was grim and his sentences were short and concise. Jake could tell this was a hard subject for him to discuss and it was taking everything for him to keep calm. He could sympathize as he experienced firsthand what the man was talking about.

"We tried to take action following that ill-fated mission, but unfortunately for us, Umbrella had many of the officials in our city bought out, including the Chief of Police," he continued with a darkening tone.

"Ever since then, we have been waging our own secret war against Umbrella. We're hitting them everywhere we can, anything to spill their blood like they've done to countless innocents. Unfortunately, we are nothing more than a small band of "fugitives" fighting against a well-known international pharmaceuticals conglomerate with plenty of high-priced lawyers, endless sources of income and a whole hell of a lot more firepower than we could ever dream of.

"We're dangerously low on manpower, weapons, intel and other crucial resources and right now we're going to need all the help we can get."

Jake sat cold and silent as he listened to the man's story, but figured he could tell where the man was coming from and broke the staring contest.

"Let me guess, you want my help."

Again Chris nodded in reply.

"Exactly, we've studied your file closely Mr. Cavanaugh and are aware of what you're capable of. You're a damned good hand-to-hand fighter and are even better with all kinds of firearms, not to mention all those other tricks of the trade you've learned in your 'profession'" Chris said making the quotation gestures as he said "profession."

"And what makes you think you'll be able to get away with recruiting a lowly two-bit criminal like me into your ranks?" Jake asked crossing his arms believing there were still people out there wanting a piece of him.

"I believe I'll be able to answer that question for you Mr. Cavanaugh," another voice crept in, this one carrying a heavy British accent.

Stepping into frame was a dark-haired, middle-aged man in a fancy black suit that almost looked like a government agent. The way he carried himself though indicated there was more than meets the eye.

"Allow me to introduce myself, I am called Trent," he proudly announced as Chris stepped back into view. "I am the man responsible for this operation and it was I who called for you to be brought here before us."

Jake grimaced slightly as he remembered the stinging sensation he received from the taser, knowing it was probably Trent who ordered that too.

"I have been following you for quite sometime Mr. Cavanaugh and thanks to some gifted hacking, I was able to witness you in action back at the Raccoon outpost and must say I was truly impressed. It was also from your friends back in Verdant Mountain I heard about your "fire powers," truly another valuable asset to possess."

"Look, you're starting to bore me now just cut to the fucking chase," the criminal grunted nearly rising from his cot.

"I'm looking to cut you a deal Jacob," Trent stated flatly, "I know there are some people in this building that don't think you deserve this deal, but I for one am."

"Man, these people sure are desperate if they're appealing to me of all people," Jake thought keeping his ears open ready to listen further.

"We want you to help us bring down Umbrella and in doing so, I can personally see to it you are granted your freedom," Trent said leaning closer to study his potential new recruit.

"Really," Jake asked looking toward the monitor, "You can seriously do that for me?"

"Yes Mr. Cavanaugh, I will vouch to whoever I can," the suited man replied, "I have many contacts within the U.S. government and several more underground sources that can help. Think about it."

Chris again came to the front to finish his case.

"Listen up though, if you try any funny shit such as trying to kill me or any of my teammates, escaping or anything else, don't think for one second I won't hesitate to turn your ass back over to the authorities. I'm sure there are plenty of cops who would love to get their hands on a wanted fugitive who's 'miraculously returned from the dead.' This is a rare opportunity Cavanaugh, don't blow it."

"Let me talk to him Chris, maybe I can convince him," a familiar voice called out from the background, one that made the hitman perk up.

"Jill wait! What are you doing?" Chris called out to the unseen teammate.

A loud ding suddenly came from the electronic door and a familiar face stepped into the small room, one he hadn't seen in the past few days since he had fought his way through the streets of Raccoon.

"Jill?" Jake asked flabbergasted.

"Hey Jake!" the young woman replied cheerfully.

It was Jill Valentine alright, but this time she looked completely different. Gone were the street clothes and she now wore a combat outfit consisting of a light blue top with navy blue shoulder pads, baggy dark blue pants, combat boots and a dark blue beret that bore the S.T.A.R.S. logo. No longer did she give off the impression of an innocent streetwalker caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, but now that of a badass soldier ready to rock and roll.

"You made it out," the criminal spoke, "How?"

Again the woman smiled and placed a hand on her hip, "You could say I made a new friend and had an old friend who was there at the right place at the right time."

The woman bent forward placing her hands on her knees and spoke again, "Listen, I really think you should take up their offer. You and I fought through the streets of that hellhole together and you've seen firsthand the damage Umbrella is capable of creating. They've ruined countless lives and they will ruin more if we sit aside and do nothing. Somebody has to stop them and I have faith you can help us Jake. Please, help us."

Jake remained silent as he let the woman's words sink in. He knew where she was coming from, but really didn't like the fact that he would have to work with a group of "pigs." Even if they weren't technically police officers anymore, they still carried the stigma in his eyes.

Then again, he felt a need to take down Umbrella. Normally he tried to distance himself from conflicts like this preferring to come and go as he pleased, but now something was clicking inside of him telling him that he should help these people in bringing down the insidious corporation, especially since he knew of their true nature.

Thinking of Chris and Jill, they were both survivors of the horrors created by Umbrella themselves. They were warriors much like him, but with a purpose and they would need all the help they could get. Perhaps it could pay to work as part of a team for once in his life, a team dedicated to the same purpose he had. With Wesker out of the way he would be able to fully devote himself to the cause of bringing down Umbrella.

This could be his only ticket to freedom, or else he faced being turned over to the authorities.

Exhaling deeply he hung his head high into the air as Jill looked on worriedly. His eyes met hers as he turned to her and spoke.

"Fine, I'll do it," he said but then suddenly reached out and grabbed the S.T.A.R.S. operative by the wrist, much to her surprise.

"I'll only do it under one condition though," he spoke pulling her closer, "I want nothing hidden from me. If I'm going to work for you I have to trust that you won't stab me in the back. I want to know everything that goes on, no matter what! You do this for me and I'm yours until this bullshit is over with."

"Okay," Jill softly replied, "You have my word. I can't promise your life won't be in danger, but I can promise that you will be told everything upfront. Just give us a chance and we'll make it worth your while."

Jake could sense the sincerity in her words, something he couldn't have felt from previous employers. Already he began to feel at ease and loosened his grip on the woman's wrist.

"Alright, you've got yourself a deal," the hitman spoke taking Jill's hand in a firm handshake.

Rising to his feet he stretched out his tensed muscles and followed the S.T.A.R.S. officer out of the cell into the adjoining control room. He wanted to whistle at the amount of high-tech gadgets such a small ragtag group would be able to afford, but then realized it was probably Trent that had the funds for such technology.

Standing at the front of the room near the two-way mirror were both Trent himself and Chris Redfield. Seated at a round table in the center of the room Jake was able to make out Carlos Oliveira, the young South American U.B.C.S. operative he had temporarily teamed up with while on the streets of Raccoon, including to help Jill take down the Nemesis B.O.W. The two men nodded to each other and then he took the time to examine the others present.

Also seated at the table were a young woman with short brunette hair and wearing a red headband that looked like she should have still been in high school. She was Rebecca Chambers, former medic for the S.T.A.R.S. Bravo team and a member of the rescue party that had captured Jake back at Verdant Mountain.

Seated next to her was a stocky, bearded man in his late thirties, with brown hair receding slightly. He looked gruff, but Jake could sense a great amiability about him. He too was dressed like a S.T.A.R.S. member with his burgundy combat vest and had on a holster carrying a powerful .44 Magnum Revolver. This man was Barry Burton, a trained weapons specialist and pilot.

With them at the table were two more S.T.A.R.S. operatives, the first a dark-haired Caucasian man and the second a muscular African-American who dwarfed even Jake himself. They were David Trapp and John Andrews respectively, both former members of the Exeter S.T.A.R.S. branch.

Angela was also present in the room, now dressed in a light green sweater and blue jeans. A large bandage was on the right side of her face and she held a cup of hot cocoa in her hands.

Lastly, standing next to Angela was Kevin Ryman and he looked slightly different with his now clean-shaven appearance and slicked back hair. His perpetual R.P.D. tactical uniform was now replaced by a pair of blue jeans, light red and burgundy plaid shirt and a dark brown leather jacket with the R.P.D. logo on it.

"I trust you've accepted my generous proposal Mr. Cavanaugh," Trent said walking over to Jake and offering his hand, "I am more than pleased to welcome you aboard."

"The audacity of that man," Jake thought silently to himself. He stood silently staring into the man's dark eyes and then down to his outstretched hand. The older man did not appear to be intimidated at all by him and with this particular individual he didn't know whether that was a good or a bad thing.

Trent said nothing while edging his hand closer to him, silently calling for his handshake. It was an iffy move on his behalf since he didn't know the man's true intentions for sure, whether he was really an Umbrella agent in disguise or truly a sympathizer who had an axe of his own to grind with the pharmaceuticals company.

Jake looked around to the other people present, all of whom seemed like good, upstanding individuals and trustworthy potential allies who had survived Umbrella's horrors and wanted to bring them down for righteous reasons. They needed a leader and this Trent fellow appeared to have gained their collective trust, as evidenced by the meeting and the safe, sterile environment they were currently in. Each of them looked towards the hitman as if they were egging him on to shake the man's hand.

The criminal's focus then shifted back and forth between Chris and Jill, both of whom also seemed to urge him forth. Jill appeared more anxious to get him to do it, visibly fidgeting and blinking her eyes rapidly. Ahead of him Chris pursed his lips and furrowed his brow mentally screaming "Do it!" at him.

"Well this has to be the guy who ordered me knocked out and brought to some place in the middle of nowhere, but then again he hasn't had me killed just yet," Jake again thought before sighing heavily.

Reaching for the suited man's hand he clasped it firmly and pumped his hand twice.

"Thank you," he muttered and drew his hand back quickly.

"I understand you may have your reservations Mr. Cavanaugh, especially after the way in which you were acquired, but I didn't want to take any chances and further expose my allies to any additional hazards. It was an arduous task tracking you down, but I assure you it was for good reason. All I have to offer now are my humblest apologies and pray that we can brush this misunderstanding aside for the sake of continued cooperation."

"Take it easy; I accept," Jake replied, "I guess I'd rather be here than lying dead back in those woods."

A suave smile crossed the businessman's features and he nodded back, "Understood Mr. Cavanaugh."

"Please, you can call me Jake."

The hitman was then approached by Chris, who also offered his hand, "Welcome aboard Jake. I understand we may not have met under the most ideal of circumstances, but I do look forward to working with you on this upcoming mission and trust you could be a valuable asset to our cause."

"Likewise," Jake replied with a nod.

"Okay, now that we've gotten that business taken care of," Trent cut in motioning towards the exit, "feel free to become acclimated to your new surroundings and get yourself situated. I imagine it's probably been awhile since you've had a decent meal, a hot shower and a decent night's rest, not to mention a change of clothes," the businessman said closely examining the tattered remnants of his stolen H.C.F. uniform, which were caked in dried blood and still reeked of smoke and gunpowder.

"And while you're at it, feel free to mingle with some of my other guests," Trent added as he lead Jake towards the exit, "There are several others present at the moment who have survived the recent incidents and believe they are all familiar with you."

"Wonder who they could be," Jake said aloud as he was lead into a hallway that looked like it belonged in a fancy Victorian mansion, with its mahogany wall panels, dark red carpeting that had intricate gold Oriental-inspired designs and expensive-looking curtains covering plate glass windows that took up the entire wall, flooding the hallway with filtered sunlight.

Trent walked with him further down the hall and looked around to make sure nobody else was around before speaking again. "I believe I may have an idea of who ordered you to embark on that suicide mission in Raccoon City."

"Really," Jake asked taken by surprise at the man's sudden comment. "Now this I've gotta hear," he thought.

"Tell me Jake, was it by any chance one…Albert Wesker who financed that little mission of yours?" the man asked staring at him smugly.

The criminal's mouth fell open in shock and Trent chuckled slightly to himself at having guessed correctly.

"How do you know him?" Jake asked again, "Have you worked with that bastard before? How could you know such a thing?"

Trent worded his reply carefully, cautious not to give off more than he should about his past with the former S.T.A.R.S. captain.

"Let's just say we had a mutual acquaintance, the very William Birkin you were sent to assassinate. You may not know this, but those two had quite a history together, one that went back more than twenty years. The exact nature of their history together I did not know, but one that must have involved a pretty nasty falling out in order for him to warrant such action against a former friend."

He had been lying as he had been around for much of those twenty years and had known of several of their projects together, including their plot to murder their mentor Dr. James Marcus. For now though he would have to keep silent for the sake of escaping this ordeal alive.

"That man commanded the Raccoon City S.T.A.R.S. division and it was him who led them on that fateful mission to the Spencer Estate, one that resulted in the deaths of seven of their closest friends."

"I shouldn't be surprised by that after what he pulled on me," Jake replied, "I killed that bastard back at Lookout Point…I hope I did…" the criminal trailed off knowing of the man's slippery nature.

Trent nodded in reply, "I notice you failed to mention his presence to the others back there, but I fully understand you wouldn't want to have distracted them from their present task at hand. Rest assured I won't mention a word of this to them so they may press onward with clear minds. As we speak he is burning in the fires of deepest Hell."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

What had once been the observatory called Lookout Point was now a crumpled mass of steel and concrete, the result of the escape chopper's collision. Fragments of smoldering warped steel stuck out from the piles of chipped bricks and sitting atop a small mountain of wreckage was the charred midsection of the former helicopter.

The window of a crumpled cargo door shattered into pieces as a gloved hand drove through it and from the darkness Albert Wesker desperately pulled himself to freedom. Howling in pain, he clawed his way through the small opening using his one remaining hand and slid down the blackened steel surface, his right leg becoming impaled upon a jagged spike sticking out and tearing his leg open as he hit the gravel surface.

A small case fell from his ripped open shirt pocket and hit the ground several inches away from his mutilated form.

"No, it won't end today!" he thought through a crippling haze of anguish, "Not after I've come this far!"

The dying supervisor's body looked like it had been run over and then set ablaze. Burns and charred skin covered his entire visible form, burning away much of the flesh from his face and with it his trademark snappy blonde hair, still smoking beneath the shredded remains of his uniform. Shards of razor sharp metal and glass stuck out from his arms and legs making him look like a human pin cushion. The rest of his body was covered in deep lacerations that left a bloody trail beneath him and bones that had been broken in every angle, some ground to dust and some protruding from beneath his flesh. It would take a miracle to save his life.

"Move forward," he told himself and willed his remaining arm to drag him along the rocky ground with all the strength he could muster. Every movement he made caused the world to spin around him and with every second he wasted he felt his life slip further away.

"Faster," his mind screamed at him. His accelerated healing factor tried to heal him, but was moving too slowly for this kind of situation. Ripped tendons attempted to string themselves back together and his opened wounds tried to bind, only adding to the ungodly agony he endured.

Unable to take any more he threw his head back and screamed to the early morning skies, still largely darkened by the smoke of the wreck.

"I…will…not…d…die!" he gasped as loudly as his punctured lung would allow. Stretching his arm ahead he managed a tortured smile as his fingers brushed against the steel casing and with another pull his hand gripped the small case.

With a bit of struggle he managed to pop the case open one-handed and wriggled a small syringe out of the padded interior. Next to the syringe was a cigar-shaped silver tube stamped with a biohazard label carrying the same greenish liquid as the needle.

It had been too long since his last injection and there was too much damage done to his body to find a suitable vein for administering the serum into. Resting the syringe on his stomach, the supervisor used his remaining hand to tear his vest open and grasp the small syringe. With a final desperate rush he jabbed the needle into his heart artery and depressed the plunger.

Wesker suddenly felt very numb and allowed his hand to slip away from the syringe, again staring lifelessly toward the heavens. It was then that it hit him and a fire burned in his veins, the fire of life being restored.

He suddenly began to spasm uncontrollably and his back arched him upward. A chorus of pained screams followed as his limbs convulsed and a fresh layer of blood poured down his face and clouded his eyes, which already threatened to roll back into his head. It was the most indescribable pain he had ever felt in his entire existence, the pain before rebirth.

As the supervisor writhed and howled upon the ground, his dying heart gradually began to beat with renewed vigor, his lungs began to pump stronger and his pulse quickened. Torn skin and muscle knitted back together automatically and broken bones mended until he could full move his limbs under his own free will once again. The pointed stump that remained of his right arm swiftly began to bubble and with the ripping of flesh a bloody new arm popped out from the opening to replace the one lost in battle.

In an instant Albert Wesker was whole once again. There was no more pain, only measured breathing and blood pumping freely through his system. He had been saved from Death's Door.

"Albert Wesker cannot die, not as long as the T-Virus flows through my body."

Lifting himself up, he dusted off his tattered uniform and picked up the case from the ground, taking some time to stare at the needle that had just help save his life.

"Sheer perfection," he smiled and flung the needle to the side.

Turning on his heel he studied the smoking ruins of the Black Hawk MH-60A. Sticking out from one of the front windows was the severed arm of the pilot, Hatcher his name had been. With the image of the swaying severed appendage he then turned his attention to the field of corpses surrounding him, all of which had been badly mangled in the blast.

"A shame really. They might have been nothing more than glorified cannon fodder against one man, but they had spared me from much grief in the past. They were valuable, but they were also expendable…too expendable to be considered assets…just tools. They had served their purpose, but now they can be discarded, just like anybody else in this pitiful world. Come tomorrow, I can have an entirely new crew at my disposal."

Thinking of that "one man" made Wesker's blood boil.

"Jake Cavanaugh. I was convinced you were nothing more than a lowly thug off the streets, an over-glorified errand boy who demanded more than you were truly worth," he mused as he exited the crash scene and started down a winding trail. The thoughts of their "final battle" were still fresh in his mind as his rocket collided with the escape chopper, seemingly killing him for good. There were still plenty more of his men present in the forest and he wanted to believe that they had succeeded in tracking down and eliminating the rogue hitman. Doubts still lingered in his mind though.

"He showed me back in Raccoon that he was far more than some typical mob oaf. He had the skills of a true cold-blooded killer and it was through sheer luck and skill he had eliminated an already mutated William Birkin. I will admit he truly impressed me. He could have been an actual asset, not an expendable tool that would have been discarded after one use. I could have made him something more than just a 'career criminal,' but no, he had to be a free thinker.

"If I couldn't even kill him, then why should I believe any of my own men could kill him? Perhaps he has the devil's luck much like the S.T.A.R.S. did at the Spencer Estate. Maybe he did massacre my men and somehow make his way back to society. It doesn't matter though; if he did make it then surely Umbrella would know – they always know – and he would be dealt with accordingly. If they even can't catch him, then most certainly the authorities will locate him and shoot first and ask questions later."

The sadistic thought made Wesker smile as he smoothed back his trimmed blonde hair. Thanks to the criminal he was without an extra pair of shades, his extra pair he recalls having left back at his apartment in Prague. He was also without his portable computer that had his built-in G.P.S., and then he could have had a rescue chopper here to pick him up in no time.

"Oh well, this virus has its perks" Wesker thought as he began to run, knowing within seconds he would be a blur to the naked eye. "There are towns around here, all I have to do is find a phone and I'll be back home reclining on my couch and sipping a margarita. If the board wants me so bad, they'll have to put up with a few broken necks before they catch me."

His thoughts once again shifted to Jake Cavanaugh, wherever he may be in the world and what he would do to him once he got his hands on him.

"He will pay for this insult. Mark my words Cavanaugh, you WILL pay!"

Author's Note: And so ends yet another chapter of Darkness Arises! In case some of you are wondering about their whereabouts, I did not include Leon, Claire and Sherry for the sake of the game's storyline. By this time, Leon and Sherry have already been taken in by the U.S. government, with Leon about to begin his Secret Service training for Resident Evil 4, and Claire on the hunt for Chris, whose whereabouts she knows nothing of at this point in time. As of right now, I have one more regular chapter to go and I would like to sincerely thank all of you who have stuck by me all this time. Please read and review as it is your feedback that keeps me moving forward. Once again, this is the Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	56. Chapter 50: Downtime

Darkness Arises

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 50: Downtime

Before Jake Cavanaugh could truly enjoy the safe, relaxing atmosphere of Trent's hideout he would have to go through the same process as all of the other resistance members.

He was led down to the basement via secret elevator and was instantly surprised to find himself in a very professional hospital examination room with an entire team of doctors and nurses ready to receive him. He was immediately stripped of his garments and led to a sterile white gurney where he was poked and prodded much to his annoyance as doctors muttered random medical gibberish above him. For over an hour he laid there as a sample of his blood was drawn and run through a machine, ending with a pleasant sounding beep.

"Probably checking me for any other kinds of viruses," he thought to himself knowing he already had a stabilized variant of the T-Virus within him, along with the "Hellfire Virus" as Wesker dubbed it.

Once the blood tests had come back the gurney beneath him was drawn into an M.R.I. machine that could barely hold his muscular figure. A bright laser traveled up and down his body scanning him for any internal injuries and when his tests came back negative he was removed as soon as he had entered.

Upon removal, he was given a hospital gown and led into a decontamination room; there he had to stand naked in a shower-like stall and be sprayed over every inch of his body by a foul-smelling chemical and then blown dry by regular air. A guard waited for him with another hospital gown and led him to an actual shower area.

It was something he had desperately needed for over a week now and was even happier to learn he would be able to take as long as he liked. The warm water was a welcome relief and he knew he would have plenty of filth to wash away, the mental as well as the physical. He spent over an hour and a half scrubbing away greedily, bathing himself over and over again until he could feel his muscles melt. The knots that had accumulated from days of running, shooting and other physical exertion washed away with the layers of dirt, blood and other miscellaneous substances. For what seemed like forever, it truly felt good to be clean.

As soon as he exited the shower area he was led to a small locker room where a fresh pair of clothes awaited him, consisting of a plain black t-shirt, generic pair of black trousers, socks and boxer shorts. There were no shoes available so he was given some slippers instead.

Jake was allowed to return to the upper floors once his examination had been completed and was again met by Mr. Trent who now promised him a full meal.

The hitman found himself in a large dining room sitting at a table that could easily fit 20 people. Sitting at the front of the table he was immediately approached by a cook who brought him a large tray filled to the ends with food. Before him was a large scrumptious-looking steak, fries, coleslaw, a slice of orange and a small chocolate brownie. He requested a Loco Cola for his meal and proceeded to devour everything he could, even asking for a refill of his Loco Cola. It came as a surprise to him that he was still able to enjoy a full meal after everything he had witnessed in Raccoon City; particularly the way zombies tore human beings apart right before his very eyes.

With his meal finished, he quickly made his way to the nearest restroom where he had performed his "business" and was then given a toothbrush, floss and some toothpaste to brush his teeth for the first time in over a week. Again he took his sweet time, brushing for over ten minutes until his breath smelled of nothing but mint.

Trent again waited for him outside the bathroom and was now ready to show him to a room that had been set aside especially for him. During their stroll towards the bedrooms Jake finally learned where he was at, that they were at a secluded mansion located deep within the Adirondack Mts. of northeastern New York near a large lake. The mansion itself was listed under an assumed alias of Trent's to avoid drawing suspicion from Umbrella and that the nearest town was a little under an hour away, assuring them plenty of safety as well as peace and quiet.

Jake's temporary room was located on the second floor and for the most part it was a plain bedroom with a one person bed located in the corner, a small armchair across from it near the door, desk with a small lamp resting atop it, clock above it, closet and a small TV set on a stand in front of the bed. Four windows were in the room, allowing plenty of light and a splendid view of the surrounding forests and lake.

He was offered the chance to get some sleep since it was still early in the morning, but still felt energized from his "nap" he had gotten after being stunned, plus he wanted to find out more about these other survivors and decided to find them wherever he could.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You mean to tell me all this time we worked alongside a wanted felon?" David McGraw asked in disbelief. He quickly stood up and walked over to the nearest window, "I still can't believe it!"

"You should be thanking the man David," Alyssa Ashcroft rebutted, "If it weren't for him a lot of us would have died back in that shithole!"

"Yeah, Alyssa and I owe him big time," Kevin Ryman chipped in, "I don't think I would've made it out of that outpost alive if he hadn't been with us."

David half growled as he turned on his heel to address his friend and colleague, "The guy's a wanted fugitive Kevin! How can you just sit here and defend him like that? Don't you realize he could've killed us any time he could've wanted to? If I would've known who he really was I would've knocked his ass out and hauled him off to the nearest jail."

"David settle down!" Miranda Bennett pleaded taking a few steps towards him, "He still helped us back there and for that I trust him. From what I heard, he helped you too!"

Another group of survivors from Raccoon City had gathered in the mansion's recreation room, mostly gathered around the couches and chairs at the front of the room near the fireplace.

David McGraw, Alyssa Ashcroft and Miranda Bennett had all been present and were quickly joined by Kevin Ryman. As time progressed they were joined by fellow Raccoon survivors George Hamilton, his niece Samantha Russell, Eric Sampson and Eric Rawlings. The heavily bandaged trio of Eagle Point S.T.A.R.S. survivors had joined them too, Mike and Robbie both coming in on wheelchairs while Sara followed close behind. David King was also present, but sat alone at the mini bar keeping to himself.

The news had been revealed to the others regarding Jake's true identity, that he wasn't a security operative named Jacob Smith, but rather Jake Cavanaugh, a wanted murderer. Some like McGraw and George had both reacted with anger at having been deceived, especially by a wanted fugitive. Others like Eric and Samantha had both reacted with fear that they would be murdered now that the man's secret had been discovered. David King on the other hand had no immediate reaction, only displaying indifference. Those who had fought alongside the criminal away from the streets of Raccoon were still trying to convince the others that he could be a valuable asset and that they had trusted him.

"I still don't know what to think," McGraw replied with his arms crossed as he turned to address the others. Gone was his perpetual S.W.A.T. uniform, now replaced by a blue paid shirt and matching jeans. "He could still turn on us at any given minute, especially now that we all know of his secret! We need to remain vigilant so he can't try anything funny, more so if we're going to be forced to work with him."

"Then you don't go broadcasting to the world who he really is! D'uh!" Alyssa interjected, "As far as the rest of the world is concerned Jake Cavanaugh is dead," she said motioning towards the big screen television located at the back of the room near the pool table, where just moments earlier it had been announced on the news that the criminal's "remains" had been found burnt beyond recognition. Kevin, Miranda and the Eagle Point S.T.A.R.S. nodded in unison seconding her stance.

McGraw knew he was outnumbered for the most part, knowing he had only George, Rawlings and Samantha on his side in this one. When he took the oath to serve and protect he took those words literally, an officer in the truest sense of the word. It was a disgusting thought to him knowing he had to work with somebody he should be putting behind bars.

"You may outnumber me, but I still remain strong on my stance that we need to remain vigilant around Jake Cavanaugh!" the officer forcefully spoke.

"Wow, I didn't know I was that popular around here," a deep voice chimed in.

Everybody turned their attention to the entranceway where Jake stood in his new clothes, looking rested and fully reenergized after the recent events.

The criminal stepped into the recreation room, a large room that almost looked like a chapel with its large windows and multicolored lighting fixtures. The group of survivors gathered towards the front of the room where several three large couches and several smaller armchairs were situated near the fireplace. In addition the large room also had a mini bar towards the back where David King presently sat, a big screen TV towards the back of the room and near it a pool table, small circular table with six chairs present, two pinball machines, two arcade games, an electronic dartboard and in another corner a sleek black piano. Had the entire group not been present he probably would've gotten himself a drink since it had been a while since he had been able to enjoy one.

David McGraw, the very man he had saved from near death several times back in Raccoon City, stood near one of the windows with his arms crossed, glaring daggers into him. It appeared he had learned of Jake's true identity and was deeply dismayed by what he learned.

"Well here I am," Jake motioned to himself, "do continue where you left off McGraw. I'm truly interested in hearing what you have to say."

The former S.W.A.T. officer still glared at him silently, furrowing his brow. Only deep breaths were heard from the man and he slowly lowered his hands in clenched fists. He sounded as if he wanted to explode, but struggled to hold it in.

Shaking his head Jake approached the man pushing his way past Sara and the two wheelchair-bound S.T.A.R.S. members.

"Come on, I'm right here!" the criminal raised his voice, making several other occupants jump, "You had something to say about me, or are you too chicken shit to say it to my face?"

The two men stood nose to nose with one another, neither showing any signs of backing down, one driven by feelings of betrayal and the other by hostility at being confronted once again. Everybody else in the room stood silent in fear at the anticipated fist fight. This would not be a small scuffle either, but an all out battle between a trained S.W.A.T. officer who also happened to be an ex-Marine and a deadly contract killer. Numerous sets of eyes darted back and forth between both men waiting to see who would throw the first punch. Deep down they prayed something could be done to resolve the impending conflict, but would need to be done fast.

"All along you were nothing more than a damned criminal," David seethed through clenched teeth, "You lied to us all…"

"A law dog that actually has the balls to say it to somebody's face," Jake thought, "And he actually acts tough one-on-one, even without backup. Then again he's gotta be damn good to have survived Raccoon."

"A 'liar' actually that saved your sorry ass," Jake started in a cool tone, "A wise man would be thankful for such convenience, but I guess a 'pig' wouldn't qualify."

McGraw growled at the derogatory nickname and grabbed the man by the collar, only to find several pairs of hands grabbing him and pulling him backward while numerous shouts filled the air.

Jake remained quiet as George and both of the Eric's fought to restrain the former S.W.A.T. officer. Kevin and Alyssa both took positions alongside him, placing their hands in front of him whenever they thought he would move, but he remained calm as the other man was finally pinned down to one of the couches.

"Both of you stop it at once!" George shouted over David's repeated threats of violence, the good doctor snapping out of his usual demure demeanor to prevent a disaster. The older man thrust himself between the two warring parties with both arms raised.

"We can't be fighting each other, especially at a time like this! You want to make it that much easier for Umbrella?" the doctor shouted at both men and looked around to the others before continuing, "We barely survived Raccoon and we sure as hell didn't accomplish it by being at each other's throats. Now we have a lot more on our plate to deal with and whether you like it or not, we're all going to be working together to help bring them down."

George paused and looked over Jake closely before returning his attention to David, "David, I understand Jake is a criminal and quite frankly I'm not high on the idea of working with somebody from such a shady background either, but we have no other choice! If you don't stop then we might as well turn you over to them."

McGraw had calmed by now, surprised by the good doctor's seemingly sudden change of allegiance. He still glared hatefully at the hitman standing before him, but remained composed. Samantha quickly took a seat next to him and wrapped her arm around his, whispering something into his ear. The former R.P.D. officer nodded in reply and both of them left the room.

The room was left silent again as everybody stared blankly at Jake, much to his annoyance.

"What?" he snapped, causing the others to leap backward in fright. Shaking his head he strode over to the mini bar and walked behind the counter snatching a shot glass and a bottle of Scotch. Pouring a pint into the small, insular glass he gulped it down in one full swig, exhaling as the liquid slid down his throat and traveled through his system. Being a bigger man he didn't immediately feel a buzz afterward.

David King still sat silently at the end of the bar taking a sip of his Jack Daniels. The former plumber could sense Jake's eyes upon him and turned to meet his gaze. They both stared silently to one another before the hitman broke the silence.

"Obviously you've learned of my secret," the criminal mused reclining casually against the bar pouring another drink.

The former plumber scoffed, "Everybody has their skeletons in the closet. God or whatever's out there knows I sure have my fair share of them. I bet Johnny Law over there has his too; he'd be lying if he didn't."

Jake smirked in reply. "So how are they twisting your arm to ensure your cooperation?"

David finished his drink before replying, "They're not. After all the shit I saw in Raccoon you could save I've been getting my own itching for taking down those Umbrella shitheads." Images instantly flashed in his head of the security guard Mark Wilkins, his bloody body lying at his feet. The aging man had been hacked to death by an advanced "Licker" at the burning Apple Inn. It was a shame; he could've made a good friend for the normally solitary ex-plumber.

"I hear you on that, somebody's gotta bring those fuckers down," Jake said, his hands starting to burn once again. By now everybody else in the room had returned to their normal activities as if nothing had happened, all seemingly with a silent urging from George.

"So how did you end up in Raccoon after all?" David asked looking to carry on the conversation.

With nothing more to hide he spoke, "I was sent in to whack some high-ranking researcher with Umbrella, this William Birkin guy. Somebody wanted him dead and they offered me ten million dollars upfront."

The other man whistled at the amount. "Ten million dollars, damn somebody sure hated that guy alright."

"No kidding," Jake retorted, "I fought my way through that zombie infested shithole, only to find out halfway through that Birkin was supposedly dead. Next thing I know I'm knocked out cold and then somebody informs me that he's still alive. I fought my way through the police station, the sewers and eventually made my way to some underground lab Umbrella had in the city, that's where I met up with Kevin and Alyssa again.

"Surely enough Birkin turned out to be there, except he wasn't the same guy I was supposed to whack. No, he was this freaking giant with large claws and everything, like something straight out of a child's nightmare. Well I killed the fucker alright and escaped with Kevin, Alyssa, some other cop named Leon, this girl looking for her brother named Claire and Birkin's daughter Sherry."

"Damn" David replied, "Sent in on a suicide mission…did you ever find the bastard that sent you in?"

"Yeah and he ripped me off in the end," Jake grumbled only to smirk a second later, "That's okay, in the end I blew the punk out of the sky," he pantomimed firing a missile into the air.

The ex-plumber chuckled darkly, "Definitely not somebody to be crossing, good thing you were on our side at least."

"I really don't think of myself as being on any side to tell the truth," Jake said pouring another drink, "I'm just me in my own little world. I go where the money is and then move on."

"Me neither," David said, "I only care about survival. If being with a group of people can up my chances, I'll go where they go. They just don't try anything funny and everything will be alright."

Jake finished his latest shot and stared out the window where he could see Angela walking in the distance towards a dock by the lake.

"I'll talk to you later man. Right now I've got something to do."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Angela Cataldo sat alone on a bench at the end of the dock staring at the crashing waves beneath her and out towards the seemingly endless forests and mountains beyond. She sat in deep thought as she admired the splendid beauty that surrounded her, wondering if she would ever see anything like it again.

The young woman knew she was about to embark on a major campaign against the international pharmaceutical conglomerate Umbrella Inc., one that would be costly and one that left her wondering if she would ever come back alive.

It would be a great burden to carry, but one that had to be carried out for the sake of innocents everywhere, those who had been completely unaware of the company's true nature and those who would be the first to fall if something wasn't done.

"This war will be won," she thought to herself, "I swear on the graves of everybody who perished back in Springvale, we are coming and we will win this war for their sake."

So deep in thought was the young detective she couldn't make out the heavy footfalls on the wood coming from behind her.

"Enjoying the weather, huh? Might as well while you can," a masculine voice called out from behind her.

Looking over her shoulder there stood Jake Cavanaugh, now wearing a black and white windbreaker jacket and matching tennis shoes. Even she had to admit he was a darkly handsome individual when cleaned up, but quickly pushed those thoughts out of her head.

"You have a lot of nerve showing your face down here, you know that?" she spat as the criminal walked past her and stood at the edge of the pier.

"What? Can't a man enjoy the scenery every now and then?" the criminal replied with his back to her.

The detective growled and her cheeks turned a bright red, "What the hell do you want Cavanaugh? Haven't you caused enough trouble already?"

Jake shook his head and turned to face her, "Don't you ever give up? You're starting to sound like McGraw now. Like it or not we're going to be working together, so you might as well start listening to Trent and Redfield."

By now the woman was boiling and let out a loud scream of rage and took a swing at the wanted man, only to have her fist blocked by his muscular wrist and then have one of his arms wrapped around her throat and having her other pinned behind her back, placed in a painful submission hold. Labored breathing followed for a few moments afterward as Jake choked her until her face turned blue. Feeling he had made his point he finally released her and let her fall to the ground.

"If you're going to keep this up next time you won't be so lucky. Quite frankly, I'm starting to not care whether or not I end up getting kicked out because you're really starting to annoy me," Jake spat as he watched the woman crawl towards the bench she had been sitting on before.

Rubbing her sore throat she gagged a little before pulling herself back onto the bench. "Damn it Cavanaugh, what do you want?"

"To talk like normal human beings for once," he said flatly.

"What? Why should I talk to you of all people? You murdered my brother you bastard!" Angela huffed, but then quickly froze when she realized she had called him a derogatory name, fearing he would probably go through with his promise of killing her now.

"Cataldo?" he asked scratching his bearded chin, "Tell me, are you by any chance related to the same Tony Cataldo of the Los Santos Police Department, a Sgt. Tony Cataldo to be exact?"

The detective was anchored to her seat, but yet able to move the rest of her body and look downward to the water in front of her. "Yes, he was my brother."

"I thought so," he said with a snap of his fingers, "I do recall your brother now. From what I heard around he was quite a good cop, some even said he might be Chief one day."

Anger and pity burnt within her soul as she felt helpless within the presence of the very man she had been sent to Pennsylvania to apprehend. Now she could do nothing.

Jake began to pace back and forth with his hands clasped behind his back as he tried to jog his memory from his time back in Los Santos.

"Ah yes, I do recall seeing the news broadcast of how he saved that family from a gang of drug dealers and how he received several commendations for it. I also heard how he personally busted Big Daddy Cy, one of the city's most notorious drug kingpins."

Angela sat bewildered as the man began reciting facts about her brother like he had known him for years. Who was he and what did he all know about Tony?

"I believe he was also a lover of the Marinaro Wines of southern Italy, had a personal preference for Russian arms over American guns any day of the week, obsessed over the Saints going all the way to the World Series and even had his own private retreat deep within Red County.

"How do you know all this stuff about my brother?" the detective asked aloud.

Jake ignored her question and stopped in mid-sentence, "Hmmm, come to think of it he did mention something about a sister. Yeah, a younger sister who was a cop herself…ah yes…"

Angela suddenly froze as the man leant down sticking his face into her personal space, "I believe he told me her name was Angela! Yes, that's where I remember your name from!"

The detective felt her blood chill and swore she could feel the color draining from her skin, "H-H-How d-did you know? How could he possibly have told you such things? Why would he talk to you of all people?"

Jake stared deeply into her eyes again before speaking, "Because your brother and I worked together."

The news hit the woman like a freight train and she nearly fell off the bench.

"No! No that can't be, he would never associate himself with such filth!"

Again the hitman remained silent, knowing he had to let the information sink in before speaking again. "I'm afraid it's true. Your brother was a bent cop."

"Y-Y-You're lying! Tony was an upstanding cop! He hated criminals with a passion!" Angela shouted in disbelief, tears running freely down her pretty face.

"Looks like you didn't know your brother as well as you thought you did," Jake replied turning his back to her again.

"What? How can I know you're telling the truth? How can I believe you after the way you lied to all of those people back in Raccoon about your true identity?" she screamed angrily, hatred burning brightly in her eyes.

Jake turned around and pulled down and reclined against some railing. "Your brother was an errand boy on the side for Giuseppe LoTruglio."

Indeed that name rang a bell right there. Giuseppe LoTruglio was one of the most feared mob bosses in all of the western United States and had virtually owned the entire state of Nevada, and rumored to have own many of the big businesses around southern California.

"He did small jobs on the side for that old toad," Jake continued, "I first met him when I had to drop off a payment for him at McCloud Park, him and Sgt. Van Smyth, Sgt. Bash and Officers Kennett and Travois."

Now he was mentioning names that made sense. McCloud Park had been a notorious hot spot for crime in her neighborhood, including rumored meeting spots for prominent criminal figures, and the four officers names he mentioned were all officers who had been indicted on both corruption and racketeering charges, as well as numerous other offenses. Now he was starting to make some sense.

"He told me he only did it because the money LoTruglio paid him was much more than his meager salary with the L.S.P.D. could ever pay, but I suspected he had ulterior motives," Jake explained stepping closer to the woman. "He and I did a few jobs together, mostly striking against the Blood Crow Tong and the Aztecas. I guess you could say we were both responsible for that bloody gang war they had a few years back."

Now it was time to ask the hard question.

"Why did you kill him?" she forced herself to ask, suppressing a frightened whimper that followed.

Jake pulled down his collar and showed a thin scar that ran across the left side of his neck. "You see that scar? He did that to me. He tried to kill me."

"Was he ordered to?"

The hitman nodded. "Apparently that paranoid old fuck thought I was cutting off more of the profits than I should have been, not to mention I was "supposedly" messing around with his daughter and one of his favorite call girls. Naturally he didn't like it and next thing I know, your brother was trying to slit my throat. I killed him out of self-defense. When he couldn't get the job done, LoTruglio sent an entire death squad after me."

Angela still sat silently, struggling to process everything Jake had just told her. A part of her wanted to scream at him for accusing her beloved brother of being a corrupt cop and knowingly working for one of Los Santos' most wanted criminals, but yet another side of her wanted to believe the man judging by the tone of his voice and the way he stared at her. Being in the law enforcement field she had been trained to recognize physical signs of a suspect lying to her, but the man displayed none. Could her brother really have been everything this man had told her? Was the loving brother she had grown up around all her life nothing more than a cleverly crafted façade?

An element of truth had to ring in the man's words as he had accurately identified known locations and figures in the Los Santos underworld that no ordinary citizen would have known. Another major question sprung to mind now that they were on the subject.

"Whatever happened to LoTruglio? I know he mysteriously vanished and then his empire collapsed shortly after. Do you know anything about that?"

A thin smile crossed Jake's features and he gave an assuring nod.

"You didn't?" she gasped.

"I did," his reply was blunt and to the point.

"You killed him? How? He was one of the top criminal figures in the western United States, he was practically untouchable!" the detective rambled before catching herself.

"Heh, not as untouchable as he thought," Jake replied and again turned his back to her. "Shortly after that stunt he pulled with your brother and that death squad, I decided to pay a "personal visit" to his favorite club when I knew he would be there, he was a creature of habit after all."

"What happened then?"

The criminal rubbed his bearded chin as he mockingly pretended to jog his memory for details. "Well, let's just say a few of his boys needed a couple body bags and then I decided to take him for a little ride to the desert. He got cocky with me, so I had to introduce his face to the business end of a few bullets. Naturally I couldn't leave any evidence behind afterward, so I gave him the cookout he was dying for. Shame though, that was a nice Stallion he had."

Now that made sense right there. Two days after an attack at the Jackal Club that LoTruglio was known to frequent, a burnt out Krystler Stallion was discovered in the middle of the Dorado Desert. The remains inside bore no distinguishing marks and its teeth had been knocked out along with its fingers being chopped off.

"So that was the fate that had befallen one of the country's most notorious crime lords," the detective muttered to herself.

Jake nodded again and stepped closer to her, "Listen, I know I'm usually not one for apologies, but we're going to be working together now and if we're going to we're going to need to be on the same page. I know saying this won't bring your brother back, but I'm sorry for what I did to him. It was done entirely out of self-defense and that's the damn truth. If I would've done it out of cold blood, then I would have killed him the second I met him. I know you probably can't stand the sight of me or ever forgive me for what I did, but I ask that you at least keep your cool until this shit is all over with."

The criminal turned on his heel to walk away as Angela stared at him quietly until she mustered the wit to speak up.

"I forgive you."

Jake stopped in his tracks and turned around to face her, surprised by her sudden change of heart.

"You're right that I might not be able to forgive you for taking what was left of my family, but if what you told me about my brother was true, then I can't condone his actions either. He brought shame upon our family name and betrayed his sworn duty as an officer of the law. If what you just told me is the truth, that my brother tried to murder you in cold blood, then I can forgive you. I have to be able to move on with my life if we're going to be working together for a greater cause."

"Understood," Jake nodded.

"Please though, if you're going to work with us all I ask is that you trust us," the woman asked standing up, "I know you don't hold cops in the highest regards, but please help us. You have my sworn word that we will help you and will not betray you."

"And I will expect you to hold true to your word," Jake replied, "Stay true to your promise and no harm will come to you."

Jake took his leave and proceeded up a short flight of wooden stairs taking the short dirt trail back to the mansion when he was again stopped by the hulking figure of John Andrews.

"Hey Cavanaugh, Trent wants to see you right away," the giant motioned towards the mansion, "He must have marching orders for you already."

"I'm on it," Jake said with a nod brushing past the man.

"This is it," the hitman thought to himself as he moved forward.

This was going to mark a new beginning in his life, where he would become something more than a career criminal. Now he was to become a soldier in a secret war, a mission where cold hard cash wouldn't be his only reward in the end. He was fighting to save the very planet that believed him to be dead, an anonymous savior of mankind to be.

A new mission loomed forth calling out to him, one that certainly would not be his last.

He was ready.

Author's Note: Well that's it for my regular chapters. I know some people out there might have been craving some form of action, but all this dialogue is sort of meant to tie up some loose ends, like his situation with Angela and the other survivors finally learning the truth about who he really is and their reaction towards it. Once again read and review and hope you've enjoyed it this far because it's your reviews that have kept this fic going on for as long as it has. I thank you very much for your time and once again SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME!


	57. Epilogue: One Last Goodbye

Darkness Arises

By Metal Harbinger

Epilogue: One Last Goodbye

_One month after the events of Raccoon City._

Grayish-black clouds hung overhead on the gloomy early November day, foreshadowing yet another round of rainfall that had been battering the area for the past few days already. It almost seemed like the perfect backdrop for a small cemetery and the doom and gloom associated with such a place.

Many of the trees were left bare, adding to the innate theme of lifelessness, contrasting with a few scattered lively pine trees that grew within the cemetery's stone walls. Tombstones of all shapes and sizes lined the landscape, many with bouquets of flowers, small statues and other knickknacks lying in front of them, left in tribute by the grieving loved ones of those inhabiting the graves. A hill was at the back of the graveyard with more tombstones and at a family plot three individuals had gathered.

The three individuals, a man and two women, were gathered around the gravesite of Mary Cavanaugh, described as a "beloved mother" by the epitaph. Bowing their heads for a moment of silence the trio produced bouquets of orchids, daffodils and roses, much like the flowers they had seen in their mother's garden growing up, and gently laid them before the stone.

"Happy birthday Mom," the older of the two women spoke.

The younger woman knelt to the stone and placed her hand to it, clutching her crucifix necklace with her free hand. "Happy birthday Mom, wherever you are we hope you're happy."

It was the man's turn to speak and he bowed his head again before whispering softly. "Mom, we still miss you and love you. We hope you're all reunited at last."

The man then looked to his right where the next stone simply read "Steven Cavanaugh" and listed his dates of birth and death. His description was plain and simple, nothing more. Then again to have listed that he were a "loving husband" and "devoted father" would have been poorly disguised lies in the eyes of his family, so they kept it simplistic enough to avoid the shame associated with him.

Sighing deeply, the man blinked away some forming tears and stood up to face his two sisters, who also struggled to hold back their tears. With a collective nod they turned to face a grave to the right of their father's, one that had been largely neglected, save a solitary flower pot with fading plastic flowers in it. Inscribed was the name "Ryan Cavanaugh," along with his date of birth and death followed by a short prayer, considered ironic as he was never a religious person.

Reaching into her long burgundy coat, the younger of the two women produced a long, thin box and opened it to reveal three bright red roses. Kneeling down she placed them before a small wooden cross that bore the name "Jacob R. Cavanaugh, beloved brother."

"Do you think anybody will say anything about it?" she asked looking back to her two siblings, "I mean…they obviously knew what he was. I don't want them to desecrate our family's graves," her gaze returning to the three other gravestones before her.

"I don't think they will Liz," the man spoke, "He may have been a wanted fugitive, but in the end he was still our brother."

"He might have done some bad things, but deep down we still loved him because he was our own flesh and blood," the older woman replied.

Elizabeth Cavanaugh rose to her feet and stared silently towards both of her older siblings Jason and Rachel, both of whom shared their father's resemblance with their jet black hair and blue eyes, while she looked more like their mother with her dark brown hair and light green eyes.

The cross had been Jason's idea and he had gone out to their uncle's woodshed to build it as soon as he had heard the news of their brother's "passing." A body had supposedly been found, but the authorities wouldn't allow them to claim it for undisclosed reasons. Still, they decided they would find some way to honor his memory regardless of whether or not they had his physical body with them.

"Jake, it's been a long time," his younger brother spoke as if he were there with them, "We know you haven't made the best decisions in your life and that some people may never find it in their hearts to forgive you, but we do and I'm sure Mom and Ryan both would too." With the feeling like he was there with them, Jason wisely chose not to mention their father as he knew of his older brother's sullied opinion of him. "We just hope that wherever you are, you are all reunited and resting in peace. Take care big brother."

The three surviving Cavanaugh siblings turned and made their way out of the cemetery's main road towards the ancient gates.

"So how long are you back here in the 'States for Jason?" Rachel inquired looking towards the taller man.

"Until the middle of next month," the brother replied solemnly, "I know I'm going to miss Christmas over here again, stupid dipshit commander of mine."

"Yeah, it is…" Rachel replied, knowing how her family was already shrinking due to her brother's recent passing, "At least we still have you around for Thanksgiving though."

"So you bringing that dreamboat of yours over?" Elizabeth joked trying to lighten the somber mood, making reference to her older sister's fiancée.

Rachel rolled her eyes and looked down to the hand displaying her engagement ring, "Sure, even if you haven't gotten it through your thick skull yet that he's all mine."

The two sisters laughed amongst themselves, "So you going to bring that one guy you were talking about over for Thanksgiving?" Rachel asked referencing one of her sister's classmates from the university.

"Maybe," Elizabeth replied, "he'd better because I'm tired of him playing the waiting game with me." With a chuckle she then returned her attention to their brother.

"How about that specialist chick you were telling us about a while back Jason?" the younger sister shouted.

"Fine," Jason flatly replied, "Remember love matters aren't the only issue at the moment. Tranquil Flats called, Rose has gone missing," he said mentioning the asylum where their oldest sister was held.

Both young women suddenly froze in terror and stared at their brother wide-eyed.

"What do you mean? I thought they had her under watch 24-7!" Rachel half-shouted to her two siblings.

"They did according to the warden, but they said something about their being a massive blackout on the premises for two hours and when everything came back on she was gone!" Jason said stepping up to the gates. "We have to find her and from what I've heard, detectives are already on the case."

"I hope they find her," Elizabeth said, "We've just lost one sibling and we don't need to lose another." The trio exited the cemetery back into the outside world and then nothing was heard.

The creaking of ancient rickety wooden doors broke the inhuman silence of the graveyard as a lone figure stepped out of a mausoleum not too far from the Cavanaugh family plot.

Jake Cavanaugh stepped into the light and watched as his siblings exited the graveyard, a forlorn stare as he watched them move on with their lives blissfully unaware of his survival. As much as he wanted to approach them and let them know Big Brother was still alive, he had to let them move on as he knew his presence in their lives would only endanger them.

"As long as they think I'm dead they will continue to live," he gloomily muttered as he listened for the sound of his younger brother's car taking off down the nearest road.

Sighing deeply he approached the site of where his family members slept for eternity. Today would have been his mother's birthday and he noticed how his siblings had each left a bouquet of flowers as gifts. Reaching into his overcoat he produced his own bouquet of white roses and laid them gently before her gravestone.

"Happy birthday Mom," he nodded with a brief smile, "I know it's been a long time, but I came home one last time like I promised I would."

The brief joy he had felt from his brief "reunion" suddenly darkened as his gaze met that of his hated father's tombstone. No matter how much he had promised himself he would avoid staring at his father's stone, he had found the urge irresistible and his head turned as if guided by an invisible pair of hands gripping him.

"You drunken bastard…" the hitman hissed as he remembered his father and all of his drunken rages. His mind suddenly flashed back to that dark, stormy night when he had come home to find his father standing over his mother's corpse, having killed her in a fit of rage because of the love she had shown for a wayward son. Within another flash Steven Cavanaugh lay dead on the kitchen floor, murdered by his own son.

Jake's teeth gritted and his fists clenched as he fought the urge to destroy the tombstone with his own bare hands. He found it a strike against the memory of his beloved mother that she should have to rest next to the abusive bastard for all eternity. Yet at the same time he couldn't bring himself to do it, feeling the soothing presence of his mother within him and it was only through her that he held back, not wanting to disgrace her memory.

"I'm sorry I can't stay long Mom, but I have a mission to complete and if I ever do come back it will be a long time from now. I will make you proud of me."

The criminal rose back to his feet and then looked over to the crude cross his siblings had erected in his honor. He smiled at the thought that they had still loved him enough to create their own personal memorial to him and felt a sense of redemption in the fact that they had referred to him as a "beloved brother."

Lastly he would have to stop over by the grave of his older brother Ryan.

"Hey bro' long time no see," he said with a brief chuckle, feeling as if his older brother were standing there next to him about to put him in a noogie like he used to do when he was little. Jake still revered him as a loving brother and stalwart protector, who had taken his fair share of beatings in the past just to protect him from their father's tyrannical rampages.

"It's been a while and believe me I still think about you a lot and everything you taught me growing up. I hope wherever you are you're off protecting someone else just like you did me. I'll see you on the other side one of these days."

Having visited his mother and older brother, there was still one very special person he had left to visit and had wanted to get out of the way before he would have to depart.

Walking up the small hill he followed the very path he had remembered by heart leading to the large tombstone with a young woman's visage carved into it. His strides became faster and more powerful as he approached, knowing it had been something he had been waiting for over six years for and he had been determined to see it through no matter what.

Reaching the top of the hill he had finally come to the tombstone that bore the name Ashley Marie Hawkinson, his beloved Ashley. Overcome by powerful emotions he collapsed before her grave and touched her stone, closing his eyes and feeling as if he were touching her warm skin all over again.

Ever since her death Jake had messed around with his share of loose women, but still she was the only one he never forgot, the only woman who had an undying place in his heart, the only woman he had truly ever loved.

Opening his eyes he stared deeply into her portrait engraved upon the stone's surface.

"God she was so beautiful!" he thought to himself and pulled out a locket Ashley's mother had given to him at her funeral and opened it, displaying the final picture of her ever taken. Breathing deeply he held the locket against his beating heart. His mind was taken back to the day he first met her when she visited him in the hospital. What he wouldn't have given to relive that day over again. More importantly, what he wouldn't have done to go back and save her from her father's wrath, then maybe she would still be alive today.

Normally so calm and collected, for once Jake had found himself struggling to control his emotions. More so, he struggled to find the strength to speak.

"Hey Ashley…" he muttered staring directly into her engraved portrait, "I know it's been a long time…" he said trying to laugh, but couldn't. Again he stopped to collect himself. It was harder than it looked for him, but had to be done so he could be at peace. Taking a couple of deep breaths he continued where he left off.

"I know I haven't been around to see you in a long time…I've been gone way too long…I've had to stay away from here…" Jake stopped himself as he had suddenly felt shame for his past actions, illegal acts he knew his girlfriend wouldn't have approved of had she still been alive today. Whenever he felt like that he often told himself that maybe things could have been different had she still been alive today.

He often felt mad that she couldn't have just come to him instead of taking the easy way out and leaving him all alone in the world. From the grief he witnessed of his friends' families he knew losing a child was an unbearable pain no parent should ever have to endure and he knew that had Ashley lived, she too would have had to endure the same emotional distress.

"But I would have been there for her," Jake told himself, "I would have been there whenever she needed me and would have gotten her through that whole ordeal. We wouldn't have been able to replace a child, but we could have started over with a new family. Yes, that's what my vision meant! We would've had a family together and had a happy, peaceful existence."

Despite what his mind may have told him at times, his heart told him that he couldn't be angry at Ashley for what she did. After all, she was the first person he was truly able to open up his heart to, the one who could make him truly feel like a human being rather than some cold, emotionless shell. Working again to summon his strength he spoke.

"I know these past few years have been a very tumultuous time for me, not having you around, and I've done some things…bad things you wouldn't have approved of," the hit man spoke lowering his head in shame. "I know because of some of the stuff I've done, it's very questionable if we'll ever be together again once my time comes. I'll probably be sent to the fires of Hell while you're probably up in the Heavens somewhere forced to look down upon me for all eternity. If God can't forgive me, I hope you will find it in your heart to. Whatever happens, I wouldn't let it stop me from coming to visit you one last time."

Reaching into his coat again Jake produced another bouquet of flowers, roses of the reddest hue he could find, similar to those Ashley had given him when they first met. He gently laid them in front of her headstone and then proceeded to lovingly stroke the stone, like he had once stroked her long silken brown hair.

"I'm going to be gone for a long time," he continued removing his hand, "I have a long mission ahead of me, one of personal redemption. It's going to be a long time before I come to visit you again, if I do come back at all."

Again Jake stopped himself, "What am I saying? I will be back," he said with determination, "I'll come back for you if it's the last thing I do. I'm going to help bring down Umbrella and when I do, I'll come back to visit you again…I promise."

Slowly rising back to his feet the young man's gaze never left his deceased lover's stone. He never wanted to leave her side now that he was finally reunited with her. Now that he had found the strength to speak he had so much more to tell her, but wouldn't have the time to. Instead he could only look upward towards the heavens far above and once again ponder if his beloved was watching over him and what would be in store for him up there, if he would even be allowed at all to ascend the stairway to Heaven.

Looking downward again Jake had to have one final gaze upon the gravesite of his beloved girlfriend.

"Goodbye Ashley…I love you and I will be back for you one day."

Slowly turning around Jake started down the trail towards the cemetery gates, now having to muster all his strength to walk away when he didn't want to. Yet gentle warmth had overcome him as he felt at peace, so serene he almost couldn't feel the solitary tear trickle down his cheek.

"Thank you for being in my life Ashley Marie Hawkinson. Thank you for showing me I could be loved when I thought no one else did. Thank you for making me feel human. Wherever you are, please wait for me when my time comes."

Stepping through the gates Jake approached a waiting black Kuruma and it started up once the driver spotted him. He opened the back driver's side door, but first he would have to look over his shoulder to have one final gaze upon the cemetery where many of his loved ones lay to rest. With an unseen nod he climbed in and shut the door behind him.

"I hope you got to say your final goodbyes," Jill Valentine spoke from the front passenger's seat, an empathetic look in her eyes as she looked back to her darkly-clad companion and reached back to gently pat his gloved hand.

"Yes, thank you. I greatly appreciate you allowing me to stop here," Jake spoke rubbing his right eye.

"No problem, it was the most we could do for you," Chris Redfield said from the driver's seat, never turning back instead looking at him through the rearview mirror.

"What time is it now?" Jake asked, leaning back to relax and stretching out his arms.

"It's almost 5 o'clock, we've got less than an hour to get to the airport," Jill replied staring down at her watch. "Luckily we don't have far to drive."

"I'll punch it all the way if I have to," Chris chuckled shifting the car into drive and slowly pulling away from the graveyard.

"Please, you don't need another ticket," Jill replied rolling her eyes.

Jake sat silently in the back thankful his companions had honored his request allowing him to stop in Somerset so he could say goodbye to his loved ones. It had been a risky move on his behalf, but in the end it proved to be worth it.

Now he could move on with his life and focus on the looming war with Umbrella, one they were determined to win.

**THE END**

_Author's Note: Well I thought the day would never come, but finally it has! "Darkness Arises" has FINALLY been completed, and it's only taken me a little over 4 years to do it! Only seems like yesterday I was just writing the prologue._

_When I started writing this fic a few years back, I figured this would be a big Grand Theft Auto/Resident Evil crossover and for those of you who don't know, Jake Cavanaugh was originally conceived as an idea for a Grand Theft Auto character, which is why he may seem a little "Mary Sue-ish" to some of my previous reviewers. He was originally meant to star in a GTA fic that never came to be entitled "Jake Cavanaugh: Criminal For Hire," but as time flew by I got more and more into writing this fic to the point where I came to identify Jake as being more of a RE-type character, figuring that his dark, brooding nature fit in better here than it did with the often campy nature of GTA, hence that fic ended up being shoved to the backburner and eventually lost altogether when my computer took a crap on me once in the past, hence this fic is his "proper" debut._

_In the end though, I ended up writing one epic fic that I truly enjoyed working on and was always happy to hear what the other members of this site had to say and if they gave me constructive criticism, I took it into consideration for the sake of making my next chapter better than the last. Over time I improved a lot, but I always believe that there is improvement for more and for anybody I may not have told this about in the past, one of my plans for the future is to rewrite this story and make it better than before! _

_Rest assured though, I AM NOT removing this version of DA from , that way if you decide you don't like my new and improved version of DA, then you will always have this one to fall back upon. I just feel there is so much to improve upon and I want to get it done instead of sit back and forever ponder "what could have been?"_

_For all you hardcore Jake Cavanaugh fans rest assured this will not be the last you hear of him! Besides the DA rewrite I will also be including him in a sequel entitled "Return to Darkness: The Proteus Strain" and he is one of the main characters in my Street Fighter fic "The Chosen Ones."_

_In addition to Jake Cavanaugh-related fiction, I will also be working on side stories based on David McGraw and Angela Cataldo._

_First up is "Downward Spiral: The Road to Raccoon City's Demise," which follows the story of R.P.D. Officer David McGraw and his activities within the R.P.D. before and after the events of the Spencer Estate incident leading up to the events of the outbreak in Raccoon City. This is both a prequel and side story to "Darkness Arises" as I probably will incorporate some of the DA scenes that prominently featured David in this fic and tell them more so from his point of view._

_Next is "Springvale Outbreak," which tells the story of how Detective Angela Cataldo wound up in neighboring Springvale during the events of the Raccoon City outbreak and follows her own battle for survival as Jake fought through the nightmare of Raccoon. I don't know when these projects will be started as I have a lot on my plate creatively at the moment, so bear with me._

_Another RE fiction-related idea that's been floating around in my mind lately is a fic where I re-imagine the events of RE1 and 2, but I won't do like the movies do and completely ignore a lot of the RE video game related details at the same time, although it would have plenty of original touches as well._

_I'd also like to thank all of my readers and reviewers, past and present, for your support and encouragement. It's because of all of you that this fic got to be as big as it did and you have my infinite gratitude for helping out the way you did. I want to give a few shout outs before I run down the entire list:_

_Terry – My bro' I know you haven't been on this site in a freaking LONG ass time, but still I count your "Three Days in a Nightmare" fic as one of the major inspirations that really gave me that proverbial kick in the ass I needed to start this fic in the first place. Wherever you are in the creative world (aside from being on my Facebook buddy list) I hope you're doing alright man!_

_Hyperactive Hamster of Doom – It was because of you allowing me to use Amber Bernstein in this fic that we became great friends; even if it's only online I still count you as one of my great friends whom I met thanks to this fic. Your encouragement helped a lot and you also provided great assistance in acting as a soundboard for new ideas and what not. If you haven't checked out her fics "Project: Lucifer," "Fallout" or "Double Amber," please do so now!_

_Noctorro – It was also your fics that I count as helping give me the inspiration for starting this fic. You provided some very insightful constructive criticism that helped me think about what to do to improve and make the next chapters better and in the end it paid off. I'm definitely going to take some of your stuff to heart when I work on the rewrite of this that I will entitle "REBORN."_

_Escape the Shadows and jnhxtreme18 a.k.a. SarahBearX – You are two reviewers who I became great friends with through your many reviews of this fic and you two were both also great for pitching ideas at, some of which I would eventually incorporate into this fic. I know for sure you'll probably follow me on these next DA projects I'm working on._

_Crow T R0bot – Once again I'm always glad to inspire and I know both noctorro and HHoD are too, so yeah I'm definitely game if you wish to sound off your ideas for an RE fic of your own. Thanks for your insightful reviews too!_

_Now onto the long list of those I wish to thank for your reviews:_

_qwerty, JosephWilliams, Raimi, LordFrieza, Silent Hill Citizen, Bizzyb420, Spider938, Jammer69er (Read his "The Fall of Raccoon" DAMN IT!), Katzumi-sama, mr. red, JNM, TheGreenKnight63, israelbauman, Luke Franklin, Disturbly a.k.a. FireChainsaw, Imortal Fiend, finalfaw, KyleSui, gmanhass, SwordOfLightBladeOfDarkness, Lizard90, noodle-monster, Tale Spinner, M870, -The Ninja-, lionheart614, The Fifth Rider of Armageddon, virulent heresy, cloudfightback, Broden, C, oloeopia333, Auston, Just call me is that a cookie, Leon's Better Self, KiaGirl07, Catalina87, critic, JMec79, Paradox022, ()ChIBI()-chan, HajimeSaketo85, JDM, Jorge, FrEakinGittt, GenLi-sama, TylerD., mEsSenGerofwho?, thoughtmaker, JBabeJanice, Sideris, Innocent Nightmare, BenJehrico, JDDjarrod, Kayla, GradyJMM, Death by Jello, XxMs Ayame RurounixX, Lindsy1, kingofcenturyme, Meowth's Toon Dragon, NatkeyMnnn, ClarkRedfield907, Laney77, Jano, and Mildconcussion_

_Oh man that's a lot and I know some of you have probably long since departed by now, I still appreciated your support and it was because of all of you I made it this far. Yes there were a few asshole reviewers on here whom I blatantly left off, but rest assured if you're on this list then you're NOT one of them!_

_Once again it's been one hell of a ride, but in the end I managed to get this story completed and in the process managed to entertain an entire score of hardcore Resident Evil fanatics!_

_Thank you all for reading "Darkness Arises" and I hope to see your reviews in both the rewrite and the sequel. Until then, I wish you all the best of luck with your stories and future endeavors in general. Keep on updating and keep Resident Evil fiction alive!_

_For the final time in this fic…_

_This is the Metal Harbinger (formerly E-Z B) saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/_


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